


Think Of A Number

by MyrJuhl



Category: Graceland (TV-series 2012), The Lookout (2007)
Genre: Adult Content, Alcohol, Anxiety, Awkwardness, Blood, Bodily Fluids, Coercion, Crimes & Criminals, Crossover, Drama, Drug Use, First Time, Firsts, Flashbacks, Head Injury, Hostage Situation, Intoxication, Kissing, Language, M/M, Manipulation, Memory Related, PWP/Lemon, Panic, Spoilers for The Lookout, Substance Abuse, Trauma, Weapons, blowjob, dub-con, light kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-01 20:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15150785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrJuhl/pseuds/MyrJuhl
Summary: One morning, Mike Warren wakes up in a stranger’s bed. Naked, drunk, and still high, he knows he has to stop his destructive lifestyle or one day he won’t wake up at all. The soreness of his arse speaks its own language. He can’t remember anything from last night and that is the last drop. He doesn’t feel safe anymore and just wants to go back home. There’s just the little issue about him owing the wrong kind of people serious money and not being able to pay for a plane ticket to escape their vengeance. All these stressful factors culminate into one desperate plan to rob a bank and finally pay off his debt.Chris Pratt was once a promising college student until he gets into a tragic car accident. When he gets better coping with his diagnosis, he tackles a janitor job in a bank that progresses into handling customers. His reality consists of long sets of days, weeks, and months of boredom in the small town he grew up in. Then something unexpected happens and thinking this could be his good fortune instead turns Chris’ life upside down. If only he could just return to the days of boredom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are no FBI agents in this story. All Graceland characters are Alternate Reality.
> 
> I’m using some similarities regarding events that Chris Pratt’s character goes through in ‘The Lookout’. However, Chris’ memory, how to sequence a normal day with infrequent or no consultation of his little notebook, has vastly improved from the film and to this point in his life. 
> 
> For practical reasons, I glossed over Mike’s withdrawal days. The real timeline for withdrawal symptoms to begin is usually within 48-72 hours after the last drug is taken and peak in four or five days after quitting. Delirium Tremens is a common after effect and is quite dangerous to the system. DTs can involve severe visual hallucination, profuse sweating, an abnormally fast heart rate, high blood pressure, fever, and agitation. If an addict is trying to withdraw without medical attention, not getting help for these symptoms can lead to heart attack and death. The longer a user has been an addict, the worse these symptoms will become. But... our handsome Mike was lucky this time.
> 
> Cast members from both ‘Graceland’ and ‘The Lookout’ appear in the story. 
> 
> Also, Aaron Tveit and Joseph Gordon-Levitt were both cast in ‘Premium Rush’, 2012, so they have one real connection for 17 seconds between Broadway and 116th Street. ;) 
> 
> The main plot was inspired by Danish movie, ‘Think of a number / Tænk på et tal, (1969)’. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** These events never happened. This fic is for entertainment purposes only, not profit. I, the author, make no claim through this work as to the fictitious characters/ actual lives/ preferences/ activities of the people mentioned herein.

~•§•~

 

With a gasp, Mike sat up in bed – or at least he tried, but he quickly realised he was immobilised by a heavy arm slung across his narrow waist. Quietly, Mike escaped his imprisonment inch by inch, until he was loose from the suffocating hold. Turning, he looked at the other two men sleeping in the bed. Only then did he notice how the floor was littered with used condoms and crumpled dunes of clothing.

“Jesus fucking...” he muttered when he saw the gun sticking up between the pillows. Mike had practically slept on that thing. Apprehensively, he picked it up without disturbing the men. It wasn’t loaded, but it could have been. Traces of shit were stuck to the barrel of the gun, and blood drained from Mike’s face. He dropped it back on the mattress. Had this thing been used on him? Thank god for small favours, because he couldn't remember that from last night. Nausea washed over him for a moment there. The all too recognisable remnant sensations of being high as a kite along with being hung over added to his dizziness. The gun didn’t make it any better. Slowly, he categorised other things as parts of his memory kicked in. He realised he’d blacked out what exactly he’d done last night. Trying as hard as he could, Mike still couldn’t remember much. He certainly didn’t recognise the blokes in the bed, obviously not where he was either, and lastly: he was naked. The headache and nausea was pushing forward and Mike staggered out of bed to locate the bathroom. Not managing to reach the toilet in time, he emptied his stomach in three painful convulses on the bathroom floor. Looking away, he curled an arm around his stomach. He needed a fix, but he would have to postpone that for the moment until he could get his hands on something. Anything.

The young man had felt rotten many times before but the added sting to his arse was the lowest point ever. Another wave came over him, and he hurried over to the toilet and hit the target this time. As he rested on his knees heaving one last time, he was aware what the discomfort actually indicated. Shivering and sweating, he got up clumsily and gingerly sat down on the toilet seat. Moaning softly in misery, Mike rationalised that he must have been raped. If he couldn't remember consenting to having a threesome with two disgusting strangers – which he’d never have done soberly - then that’s what must have happened. Getting back up, he looked into the mirror. Turning this way and that, he discovered finger shaped bruises on his hips and upper arms.

Mike was turned on by blokes. Gods, he loved dating them, kissing them, licking, blowing, snuggle, cuddle, and shagging them, with the occasionally repeat performance if he was really sweet on them. However, he chose his dates with scrutiny. Going for the same type every time: a winning personality and a fabulous arse, cock, and mouth. The blokes on the bed were so far from Mike’s type, he wouldn’t even have let them buy him a drink. Still, there he was. The morning after. 

Now, Mike was used to taking all kinds of drugs to put it mildly, but still whatever had been put in his drink at the club he’d been at last night had knocked him out cold. The wankers in the bedroom were most likely the same who had spiked his drink or arranged someone else to do it to collect a free shag. The very thought of having had their dicks up his arse made Mike’s skin crawl. In spite of the used condoms on the carpet, he still thought he’d have to get tested soon anyway.

His eyes detected the shower and went for it straight away. Getting out of his clothes, he ignored the dark bruises on his torso and arms. He’d been beaten up a few nights ago, and the bruises were still waiting to turn yellow. Inside the shower cubicle, Mike rested his forehead against the cool tiles. As the water washed away all the filth, his body shook due to withdrawal. 

“I fucking know, all right!” he hissed at himself. Mike cried for a while trying to get his shit together so he could leave in a coherent state of mind. This fucked up lifestyle would kill him in the end. One day, he’d simply not wake up and the prospect scared him. Only stupid luck prevented him from OD’ing last night. He still had a few pills back home unless his roommate had found them and thrown it away. Well hopefully he hadn’t, and the thought cheered Mike up a little.

Mike didn’t used to snort chemicals and drink himself into oblivion. When he moved back to America, he was supposed to get a degree. The dutiful public schoolboy had been loaded with A levels when he graduated. He’d applied for college in America and earned a scholarship. He wanted to study law and by doing so, he thought it would be sensible to get a feel of the atmosphere and the people he would be representing - if he chose to practice law in the country. However to his utmost surprise, he got into the wrong kind of company. Before he knew it, he’d blown away his studies in favour of alcohol, cocaine, and crack. So, Mike used to have a promising future, but somehow in his weakness he managed to flush that down the loo and let calculating people take advantage of that. 

Coughing, Mike turned off the water and picked a random towel and dried off his skin. The towel turned up pink when he’d dried his rear, which only strengthened his apparent suspicions. He dropped the towel on top of his puke on the floor.

When he came back into the bedroom, the blokes were still snoring. Mike looked at them again. A bunch of bloated pigs with too much hair on them. Mike never liked when dates were bigger than him. They creeped him out when they tried to dominate him the few times he was too stoned or pissed to avoid their advances. Mike was quick on his feet and a master at wriggling out of their grabby paws. He was a softie for cuddly blokes smaller than him, but the way his life was turning out at the moment, he didn’t have time for one night stands and certainly not romantic relationships with cute boys.

The thing was, he owed people some money – a bookie named Sid Markham, and getting away from that debt was so fucking far out in the future, it could make Mike cry if he gave himself time to think about it. Thinking about it scared him, so mostly he was in denial imagining everything would work out eventually. And in the meantime, his debt seemed to escalate all by itself. Some of Sid’s goons tried occasionally to push him into prostitution ‘to get the debt over with faster’, but so far, Mike had steered clear of that. The noose was tightening though. And with more clarity, he wondered if the blokes from last night had been part of that. If this was Sid’s way of pushing Mike in that direction without consulting him, he had to get away now.

Though Mike was born in America, he moved to England when he was nine, and he wanted nothing else but returning home to London. He just couldn’t afford a plane ticket. Seriously, he had to get his hand on some cash fast and maybe then he could start all over with a clean slate. Perhaps even go back to law school but preferably in good old England.

Running shaky fingers through his wet hair, Mike located his clothes that had been strewn all over the floor. Picking them up, he went back to the bathroom and got dressed. 

“Jesus...” he muttered when it hurt to push his limbs through the clothing. He’d been fucked through the mattress. Mike was glad that he didn’t know what exactly the disgusting blokes in the bedroom had done to him while he was unconscious. At least he was spared of that memory. Casting one last look at them, his eyes darted to the pile of clothes on the floor. One of the guys’ wallets was half out of his pants pocket, so Mike picked it up and took the banknotes in there. It wasn’t much but it would cover some of his part of the rent due next week.

 _Think bigger!_ he thought, and dropped the empty wallet. Then his eyes fell on the gun. With two fingers, he picked it up and went to the bathroom to clean the shit away. Then he dried it off and brought it with him.

When Mike was out in the street, he checked the street sign, and realised he was in a walking distance from his home. As he headed in the right direction, he thought over his dark situation and then it hit him. He should rob a bank. A small one that only required his presence. Fuelled by the idea, Mike hastened his steps. He would have to investigate his possibilities in a bloody hurry. Since leaving the country wasn’t an option yet, he should at least go low profile. Sooner or later, Sid would find him, and then... well Mike wasn’t sure he’d survive that prospect either.

 

~•§•~

 

“Mike! Mikey!!” 

Mike looked up when he heard the hammering on the door.

“I know you’re in there!”

Mike’s roommate Jakes gulped and shouted, “There is no Mike here!”

“Then why is his fucking name on the door?”

“Uh – just a second!” Jakes said and swore silently.

Hastily, he opened the door to Mike’s room, but his roommate was already up and getting dressed albeit unsteadily.

“It’s Sid’s people. Take the fire escape, Mike!”

“Thanks, Jakes,” Mike said and quickly gathered his things. He’d already packed what he absolutely couldn’t leave behind yesterday, knowing that today was most likely going to be the one. He would have left later today anyway, but now he had to leave.

“Promise me you won’t use credit cards or your phone. He’ll find you!” Jakes quickly warned him.

“He’s not exactly the FBI,” Mike scoffed as he went for the window.

“And yet, here he is. See you when I see you,” Jakes said.

“Thanks. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon, mate,” Mike replied, stuck his arms into his backpack, and hurried away.

 

~•§•~

 

Mike had already decided where he was headed for the bank robbery: Noel. He’d spent last night doing his homework, so he knew which bus to take, which station, and how much money he would have to pay to get there. Once he sat in the bus away from the city, the events washed over him, and he fought to keep the tears away from spilling. He felt people’s eyes on him, and he demonstratively ignored the world around him until he could get off his stop.

Finally arrived in Noel, Mike glanced around. He’d sure picked a small community. Trees lined the main street, everything was clean, and the shops looked prospering and eager to receive their customers this morning. The overall striking difference from the big city he’d just left behind. It was rather perfect.

Behind him at the bus stop, he found a poster map of the town. Spending a few moments to study it, he noticed a creek in the outskirts of the area that he could easily reach within a walking distance. Granted it would take about twenty minutes on foot, but Mike had lots of time on his hands. He’d attached a sleeping bag to his backpack, anticipating that he could risk sleeping outdoors if he had to. Pictures of some of the influential people of the city were put next to the poster informing of their political prowess in the community.

Turning away, Mike concentrated on his plan. Walking down Sulphur Street, he located a convenience store. He had to get some groceries, and with the remains of his cash, he bought enough food to last him two weeks if he planned his meals carefully. Longingly, he stared at the alcohol aisle. He hadn’t taken any substances since last night, and felt the anxiety in his body for some kind of stimuli, but he resisted temptation and went to the till and unloaded his basket.

“New in town?” the gum chewing girl behind the register asked. 

Mike didn’t know what to say. No, meant he was definitely a stranger, and yes, still meant he was a stranger. He had prepared some kind of explanation should anyone ask him, but ‘new in town?’ wasn’t one of them. “Visiting my aunt in the retirement home,” he said knowing it didn’t look very likely with all the food he’d just bought.

Her name tag said ‘Chastity’. Mike couldn’t help wondering what possessed parents to name their daughters that. Did they in fact believe their little princess would never get sexual urges? What a fate to subject...

“Don’t they feed them?” the girl asked, interrupting Mike’s inner dialogue.

“Uh... uhm...” he tried to get back on track quickly. “She doesn’t like the food they make her,” Mike said as he hurriedly put the groceries in his backpack.

“Do I know her?” she asked handing over his change when he was ready.

“Abby Walters,” Mike replied remembering a name from the poster outside, took the money, and left before she could say anything else but ‘...but, isn’t she...?’.

“Bloody hell!” he hissed when he stood outside the store and took several deep breaths to calm himself down. He hadn’t done anything illegal and already he’d exposed himself too much. 

Quickly, he left the town in the direction of the creek. Once there, he discovered a boat house with a den by the shore. When he broke in, he found to his astonishment that there was installed a water tank, a functional toilet, and a small tea kitchen with a gas stove. Even a radio stood on a small bureau against the wall. How about that? The place was obviously private property, but he would deal with that if the owner decided to show up. There was however no bed, but everything else seemed like luxury to the conditions Mike otherwise had anticipated out there.

First step was to detox. Firstly, because he wanted to. Secondly, he was out of drugs and alcohol, so there wasn’t an alternative. He’d tried detoxing before and he was scared shitless for the pain and freaky thoughts he was about to endure the following days. The signs of not having taken anything since last night were showing. With unsteady hands, he cooked dinner and ate more than he should because he wouldn’t be able to eat anything the next few days. Lining up bottles of water he tried to get some sleep. 

 

~•§•~

 

When Mike woke up the next morning, he realised that his body had apparently forgotten how bloody terrible it actually felt detoxing. Today was worse than the shakes the previous day. In spite of the meal yesterday, his stomach felt oddly empty and he could barely think about anything else but his cravings. Somehow he got through the day and already exhausted, he also had the night to look forward to. The same. Slipping in and out of delirium in his pitiful sleep. Aching, vomiting, and feeling feverish with more hallucinations. In between clearer moments, he stupidly imagined going back to the city to get anything to ease the pain, even if he knew Sid would track him down. He tried telling himself he wanted to make sure Jakes was okay and hadn’t been hurt because of what Mike was involved in. But of course what he really wanted was drugs. All he had was bottled water.

The next morning it was the same pattern all over again. Mike smelled like garbage. Like the garbage leaving his body. Every thinkable fluid was expelled and Mike was in agony. Even if he could have had the opportunity to get something, he physically wouldn’t have been able to get up and go get it. It was pathetic. He was pathetic and so so weak. He was lucky he even got some kind of sleep. He was lucky he wasn’t dying from a heart attack by the way his heart rate was going.

The hallucinations were severe on the third day. He imagined Sid was there. Holding up clear bags of drugs and Mike couldn’t even lift his arm to grab it. 

It stopped.

On the fourth day. The hallucinations and feverish sweating stopped. The pain had become tolerable and his heart beat slower.

Mike got up from his soiled sleeping bag and with weak noodle limbs, he managed to open a can of food and ate it cold directly with his fingers. He felt decidedly better when he fell back on the bag. After a few minutes though, he had to vomit it all up again. It was too soon to eat that much. Sleep came to him immediately and he woke up in the middle of the night on the fifth day. More food – in moderation, and it stayed down.

In the morning, Mike went to sit outside in the sun and had a small breakfast. He cleaned away the mess he’d made of the place. Then he’d washed the sleeping bag and it hung across the roof to dry. He wasn’t wearing any clothes and had even taken the time to shave. While he was at it, he’d also cut his hair much shorter with a pair of scissors he found in the kitchen drawer with utilities; relishing in the relief he would not lie on his sweaty hair that night. And hopefully, the girl in the store – Chastity, wouldn’t recognise him if she saw him again.

The urge to take drugs had dulled enough for him to be able to eat and get a regular bowel movement back. He wondered why he’d wasted so much time and money on destroying his body. The chip on his shoulder would not win this time. Mike was through with that shit. He just needed to stay clear of the people who encouraged that kind of behaviour.

After a week and a half, of concentrating on becoming human again, Mike had gotten sunburned on most of his body. The damaged skin was already peeling away in crisp flakes leaving a gorgeous golden tan in its wake. He couldn't remember the last time he’d gotten colour like this. The sun being reflected by the water was probably a major reason for it. Mike pondered if he should shave his beard, but decided it would help him disguising his face and he would shave it off after the deed was done.

He was back to planning the robbery and had made himself familiar with the gun. Now it would be a vital tool in making sure the money would be handed to him when he did the robbery. 

Checking out the local bank, he realised there were no surveillance cameras at all. The building was only attended by a doughnut eating police officer a few times a day. Once around midday, once in the afternoon, plus one last time checking in with the cleaning staff in the evening. Mike couldn't quite believe his luck.

Tomorrow was Thursday and that was going to be the particular day Mike robbed the bank, because it was the end of the month. People would get paid Thursday, so there was bound to be a lot of money in the bank tomorrow. Mike couldn’t postpone the deed any longer. He was nervous enough about it as it were. He had to go through with it. He had to get the money in order to return home to London.

 

~•§•~

 

Sitting in his car, Chris stared at the building in front of him. Noel State Bank & Trust. Coming to work was different now than it had been in the beginning when he cleaned the bank in the evenings; after the accident tore away his dreams and possibilities. 

Chris had been the driver that night and the accident was his fault. He’d been driving without the lights on to enhance the beauty of the night and therefore knowingly endangered his passengers. When they ended up in the wrong lane of the road, the collision with a truck was inevitable. Two of them died and the third lost a leg. Chris was thrown out of the car and the head trauma caused serious damage to his long term memory. For five years he struggled to recover just being able to sequencing a normal day from when he woke up and till he went to bed. How to get from A to B, or C to D. Remembering all the tiny little details that constructed a normal day’s motions.

Chris wasn’t sentenced. He hadn’t been drunk driving. In the state he was in at the time, it was deemed he was punished sufficiently. Or maybe it was because he had been a local ice hockey star. Chris had never been sure about that. Anyway, after that he was a tolerated harmless nobody just existing in Noel.

In the beginning, he had lived with his parents, but he only developed his sequencing when he moved in with the blind social worker Lewis. Lewis didn’t do things for Chris. He gladly made notes telling Chris how to get around in their home, but he expected Chris to be able to take care of himself through the helpful notes, stickers, and other information covering every appliance and utility in their apartment. This forced Chris to start working with his sequencing.

Every time he saw Kelly around town, the girl who lost her leg and was Chris’ girlfriend at the time, he tried to remember what it had been like before the accident, but all he felt was guilt seeing a girl who refused to acknowledge him when their paths crossed. In that sense, what Lewis did for him also did wonders for Chris’ self-esteem, and made the young man allow himself to believe he actually deserved to get better. 

Today was 92 days ago that Chris moved out of Lewis’ apartment. That’s how much Chris had improved. His new home was a small house in the outskirts of town. The place was still covered in information, but they mostly served as a security blanket. Chris was doing that much better now, which was a phenomenal battle to have conquered.

He’d seen a therapist, Janet, for some time on the same account, still needing help to get back into socialising because he felt emotionally awkward. He knew he used to be able to get dates just by snapping his fingers. Well, that’s what people told him, but Chris found it difficult to believe. He couldn’t remember being suave like that. He was attracted to Janet, but she made it clear they were never going to become more than platonic friends. He was back to the starting point yet again. Oh, yes. It was not the first time he’d confessed his interest in Janet, but Chris liked the banter and he believed that perhaps she did, too. Janet was eager to push Chris forward toward dating and meeting girls. Chris just didn’t see the picture she was portraying. Like some of the pieces to the puzzle were missing. Like she was talking about someone else.

Chris was close to giving up on that aspect, but then he advanced in the bank. He’d been cleaning the bank for some years now after hours. It was a simple job and after he improved so much on his sequencing, he was encouraged to do more by Mrs. Lang, senior clerk of the bank at the time. She was like Lewis. Wanting to see Chris improve and pushing him by using the right arguments. If Chris had one hundred hours as a teller, he would be able to apply to the executive training program in Wichita. He could also sit in one of the windows helping customers, but most of all, keeping a check on the money. And to his joy, Mr. Solano had agreed. He was kind enough even though he had replaced Mrs. Lang with his nephew Toros Berbarian when she retired six months ago. Chris was grateful he’d gotten into the program before that happened, because Berbarian was a jerk who needled Chris when his uncle wasn’t present. 

As it turned out, Chris had proven to be quite meticulous and kept a better balance than his colleagues. Mr. Solano had kept Chris in the window, but the young man still cleaned the bank after closing time. Chris didn’t mind. He made more money that way. And today was payday. He would be able to go out and have fun after work if he got around to it. Perhaps Lewis wanted to come, too. He saw him less and less now that they weren’t living together anymore. 

The thought of finding any other kind of company still gave Chris the creeps. Everybody knew who he was. The stigma of the accident was working against him even the few times he did want company. To avoid the oppressing attention of the people of Noel, Chris sometimes drove to Pineville or Southwest City for a night out, even though those towns were just as small as Noel. In that aspect, Chris’ life was stagnating. What Chris wanted to do was move away to a bigger city; a place where nobody knew him or judged him. Someday he’d get well enough to fully take care of himself. If only other people would give him a break.

Thoughts of the night before entered his mind, and Chris groaned not quite willing to recognise what had happened. Well, since the fact was that Kelly hadn’t talked to him since the accident, Chris had had to work out the whole traumatic experience of both the guilt of his actions as well as the handicap it left him with the help of his family, Lewis, and Janet. Likely explanations of why he wasn’t missing Kelly had again circled his mind; that he didn’t miss the dating scene and that he didn’t give girls a thought anymore. He assumed it was because he’d been so busy getting back to being remotely who he was before the accident, but it rang jarringly wrong even to his own ears.

The last time Chris had tumbled the thoughts in his head, he had gone to a porn website and tried watching that. However, to his frustration he couldn’t keep up his erection. The moaning performers became tedious and he lost interest. He wondered if there was something sexually wrong with him. Nonetheless, at the next appointment with Janet, he found that he still enjoyed flirting with her, but also that he wasn’t particular turned on. He just found the interaction fun. He couldn't tell her that. He didn’t like the prospect of what her advice would be.

“Is it me?” he’d asked her instead.

“No, Chris. It’s not you. But you’re my patient as I’ve explained many times. We can only have a professional relationship. Besides, you’re trying too hard. Try girls your own age, Chris.”

“They won’t even speak to me. Might as well be a leper,” Chris sulked.

“Ever considered net dating?” Janet had suggested.

Chris had scoffed. But no, he had never considered that. At least, he didn’t think he had ever considered that. 

In spite of having regained most of his sequencing faculties, Chris still had bouts of doubt when he was presented options. Like when he was messing with the computer. He had to concentrate hard to get to where he was supposed to, because the general surfing took him away from his topic more often than not. He wondered what his browser history looked like before the accident. His history was so full of crap nowadays that he didn't even bother to look into it. Still a long way to go there. 

Anyway, when he left Janet and the coffee shop they sometimes met at instead of her office, he went straight home and tried looking up the respectable web link Janet had provided him with. Still, like so many times before, he got confused by the advertisement messages put in the middle of the screen where Chris automatically would look. He failed to actually click the button that would lead him to the dating page he wanted, and instead he entered a whole other kind of page: Streamed TV shows.

Chris got distracted right away and a handful of clicks in, he was signed up to watch some random reality show he’d never heard of. 

The premise of the show was bizarre: Eleven good looking guys were put together on a Paradise Island. They were told that one of them was gay, but the truth was that none of them were. Chris found it hysterical how sheepish and downright terrified the men were around each other. Scrutinising, analysing, and behaving like some kind of danger was to be had with a queer amongst them.

A couple of shows in, two of the men whose personas Chris had found most appealing had gravitated towards one another since the last episode. As they explored and began to make out, Chris gasped. He was getting so hard and aroused just from watching them eagerly tongue kissing.

"God…" Chris moaned and didn't know if he should turn the TV off, or keep watching. Finally, he got his wits about him realising what he was doing when his hand went down between his legs. With a delicate groan, he squeezed his cock to alleviate the pulsating pressure the vision had given him.

"Fuck," Chris hitched and got up. His hard on didn't diminish one bit with the memory of the two guys who got seduced by the idea that "one" of them had to be the gay individual. That he ‘knew’ what the straight guy didn’t in order to get laid. It had made a thorough imprint on Chris. Incapable of making a decision of what to think about it - except that he couldn’t handle jacking off to the idea of two guys making out, Chris went to bed. There he tried to figure out the shocking addition to his own sexuality. 

To be honest, perhaps it shouldn’t come as such a surprise… other than it was a fucking epic surprise. Chris just had no means of knowing he could feel this turned on, because he didn't know what his true preferences were before the accident. He’d always assumed he was straight, but he had nobody to ask about it other than Lewis. But his friend didn’t know him before the accident. Chris doubted that had he been attracted to boys back then, he would have had anybody to talk to about it. He would most likely have had to keep it to himself. That was the kind of town Noel was.

Leaning back in his driver’s seat, Chris sighed deeply and his thoughts returned to the present. In a way, it was a relief that today was payday, a large portion of the citizens were expected to come in around midday today as well as tomorrow to cash in their pay check. Today and tomorrow were the busiest days of the month with the place crowded with customers. Even Mr. Berbarian would be too hectic to find something to blame others of. Chris would be so busy he could distract himself from his mind and his sexual frustrations.

A knock on his window made Chris jerk in shock. He couldn’t help smiling. It was just Paige Arkin, and her sweet smile convinced Chris to step out of the car and follow her into the bank. 

Paige chatted on about what she’d done last night. Chris only listened with half an ear. She was an apprentice in the bank and about Chris’ age. Berbarian was constantly paying her attention, but she was a clever girl knowing how to keep a distance. Still, it irked Chris that Berbarian behaved this way so blatantly. 

One of Solano’s office policies was that employees were not allowed to fraternise to maintain a healthy working environment. Obviously, those rules were different for Berbarian than the rest of the staff. Sadly, Solano even seemed to approve. Well, Paige wasn’t appreciative of Berbarian’s advances and handled herself remarkably well. At the same, she didn’t mind flirting with Chris. It was always subtle and from her, Chris liked the tease and made her a rare friend though they didn’t have much in common outside of the bank. Since she began her apprenticeship four months ago, her presence was one of the high lights of Chris’ working day. She didn't know him from back then even though she knew about the circumstances. She wasn’t one to judge and Chris was thankful for that. 

By 9 am, the money transport had delivered their values, and Chris sat behind his window as usual. Paige was counting her till, and Chris greeted the first customer of the day half an hour later. 

 

~•§•~


	2. Chapter 2

~•§•~

 

Stepping up to the bank address at 10.35 am, Mike could tell that there were a lot of people inside the bank waiting their turn to cash in their pay check in their lunch break. He would have to move fast then, or all that money would go into the wrong pockets.

Mike slipped inside and ripped off a number from the Turn-O-Matic stand. Mingling with the crowd, he discovered a corner where he could write his short but precise message. Getting a feel of the room, and reassure himself that there really weren’t any surveillance cameras installed. Still, he nervously licked his dry lips and his eyes darted around to see if anyone noticed him. There were only two employees present, a young woman and a bloke to the further right. He would be Mike’s target. As he watched the man calmly handling the customer’s requests, they had eye contact and Mike panicked feeling him sizing him up with a frown. The guy probably knew instantly that Mike wasn’t a regular. Getting cold feet, he crumbled the note and threw it toward the bin below the small table and hastened out of the bank.

“Fuck!” Mike yelled to himself outside. It wasn’t as if it would be any easier doing it tomorrow. But he was obviously not ready and would just have to wait. Hopefully, there would still be a lot of money tomorrow. Not everyone could make it in their lunch break today and would have to postpone for tomorrow. There was nothing else he could do but go back to the creek and wait.

 

~•§•~

 

At 5.00 pm that afternoon, the bank closed for business, and Chris and Paige tallied the day’s transactions. If there was nothing out of balance, they could leave. However, if there was they would have to stay until everything was even. Mr. Solano and Mr. Berbarian never waited around for this part of the day but left the bank early.

Chris’ till had an even balance but he helped Paige figuring out why she had plus $4.49. When they found the mistake, Paige counted one last time to make sure. Chris went into the private area and decided to empty the bins into one bin helping himself to clean up quicker. Now that his memory had improved, he needed less time to clean which gave him more time on his hands in the evening.

Paige got up and they put away their tills before securing the vault.

“All done?” Chris asked and smiled.

Paige smiled back and came up to him and nodded. “Who gave you those cute dimples?”

“The mailman,” Chris said and laughed.

Paige laughed, too. “Yesterday it was the chimney sweeper and before that it was a construction worker.”

“Yeah. That was definitely never the mail man. It’s safest for me to keep you guessing, you know?” Chris laughed although there had been a time after the accident, when he had no clue what either of his parents did for a living. He saw Paige to the wardrobe where she fetched her bag and a lovely knitted girls’ cardigan.

“A girl needs to keep a bit of mystery about her. Boys... do not. They’re supposed to be an open book, so that the girl... can wrap him around her little finger,” she taught him with a knowing smirk.

“Doesn’t sound particularly sympathetic to me,” Chris said and frowned.

“Yeah – I know. But that’s the way things are for the big boys in the real world, Christopher.”

Chris shrugged and hoped he had never fitted into that depressing mould that let girls play games with his and other people’s hearts. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I’d better,” he said and cocked his head toward the bank area.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Have a good night, Paige,” Chris replied.

When she’d left, he locked the door and changed into the working clothes that he kept in the janitor room along with the cleaning equipment. Shortly after, he came back into the customer area of the bank and began cleaning. He picked up dropped items from the carpet and worked his way through all the bins. At the last bin, he found a sloppily crumpled piece of paper and saw some writing on it. Curious to have a look at what someone had written, Chris smoothed the paper and began reading. Once he understood what the words implied, he cried out in shock and quickly looked around, even though he knew he was alone.

_THIS IS A ROBBERY_

_PUT BANKNOTES ONLY IN THE BAG_

_I HAVE A GUN_

“Wow...” he whispered in disbelief and read the message again. “Woooow... oh, man.”

Chris put the note in the front pocket of his pants and finished clearing the carpet before he vacuumed the floor. His mind raced with many overwhelming thoughts, and desperately, he tried to sequence the event that just happened. What the consequences were and what his first course of action should be based on that.

In the end, he had to sit down, grab a notepad to try and organise his thoughts, and put everything into perspective of what he should do about the information. If the person who dropped the note in fact intended to rob the bank but backed out... would they try again? And wouldn’t that be tomorrow when the bank still had a lot of cash?

Chris closed his eyes and let the scenario roll across his third eye. Someone would have to hand over the money. Someone who knew or... _didn’t_ know. But Chris knew. Chris knew that a bank robber would show up and expect the money to be handed over. Chris swallowed. It would be a lot of money. With the money the bank would receive tomorrow there would be more than $350,000 in cash, as there usually were at this time in the month after the first pay day. But it wouldn’t all be in the same till. Still, the robber expected to get away with a lot of money. Chris frowned. He didn’t like that scenario. That someone could that easily just gain so much money and then what? Live happily ever after, if they weren’t apprehended?

Or... Chris’ pupils dilated and adrenaline shot through his body so he had to press a hand to his mouth in order not to throw up. If Chris knew the robbery took place, and he didn’t tell anybody, he could take the money in advance and nobody would be any wiser. They’d think the robber took the money.

“Oh, fuck...” It was too much for Chris, and he had to lie down on the floor or else he might black out from the adrenaline rush he was undergoing right then. 

He tried to recall if there had been any people in lately who looked out of place. Who might have behaved strangely, and one person did come to mind after some heavy thinking. There was a man who’d stood in the corner where Chris had picked up the note. He’d had brief eye contact with him, but when he looked again, the guy had left. Chris wished the bank had surveillance cameras now, but Mr. Solano was old school and trusted his customers. So he couldn't go back and check out the guy so that he would recognise him tomorrow should he go through with his crime. If the guy never showed up, Chris would have to return the money. But if he did show up and robbed the bank, Chris would take home the money he’d gradually put in his bag that he’d place by his window booth. Nobody would wonder about that.

A knock on the window had Chris jerk in shock. It was just Ted. The deputy smiled apologetically when Chris got up from the floor and waved at him. Could he tell Chris’ thoughts from his facial expression right away? Chris was sure he looked guilty just from possessing the note alone. Gods, Chris didn't know what to do and the seconds ticked by. 

Ted smiled jovially and continued past the window. Chris still hadn’t come up with a decision before the man was gone. Spooked, he finished his cleaning tour fast before he put his equipment away. Changed back into his suit, Chris set the alarm feeling more nervous than he could remember being recently.

There was no way he was going out tonight. His body was still jittery, and he had to rethink everything again. He should have contacted Mr. Solano right away, but the idea of taking the money was clouding his judgement. He could get away from here. He could be the one living happily ever after in a better place than Noel.

Hurrying out of the building, Chris went to his car immediately. A familiar glint caught his eye. His car keys were still in the ignition. Sighing, Chris put his trembling hands on the window. This was one of the remaining gaps that he couldn’t get passed. He constantly forgot his car keys, which was why he always had a spare in his shoe. Crouching, he got it and let himself inside the car. Dutifully, he immediately placed the extra key back in his shoe.

 

~•§•~

 

As soon as Chris was home, he went to the kitchen table, brought out the note, and flattened it against the table surface. 

“This is... a robbery,” he mumbled. “Put only the banknotes in a bag...” Closing his eyes, Chris tried to remember if the guy he saw today in fact had had a bag, but he couldn’t recall that. All he remembered was a flash of nervous eyes and then he was gone. Getting up, Chris went to the fridge and took a can of coke. He took several sips before he returned to the note.

“This is a robbery...” Chris sat down and sank his fingers into his hair and read it again. It was a masculine handwriting in capital letters. Short, precise instructions and finally Chris let himself get to the point he'd been delaying ever since he decided to hide the note in his pocket. The guy would attempt another try. There was no doubt about it. He needed money which was the whole point he’d come to the bank at all. With the additional money delivery tomorrow, it was perfectly timed, and Chris slowly got up. Wiping his hand across his chin, he closed his eyes as he breathed out slowly. There was a nervous feeling of restlessness in the pit of his stomach, but the plan still blossomed frighteningly fast in his head in a way he wasn’t used to. Heading for the fridge again, he pulled out an instant dinner from the freezer compartment and dropped it into the microwave oven. Setting the timer according to the instruction label, he went and rested his hands against the countertop of the cooking island and let the subtle noise from the rotating glass plate accompany his thoughts. 

Christ, it would make a world of difference if Chris acted according to the irrational idea he’d fabricated. If the guy came in tomorrow, he’d rob the shipment of money they would receive. Chris would have to get to it first and take most of it... then the guy wouldn’t get all of it, and nobody would be any wiser but Chris. 

Going back to the note on the kitchen table, Chris sat looking at it without seeing it. He would use the opportunity to get away from his boring life, the ungrateful job, and the people he never cared to see again. He could move to a place where nobody knew him, live quietly, but significantly happier for hopefully the rest of his life. 

The sound of his dinner being ready brought him away from his thoughts and, when he sat down at the table to eat his food, Chris had made up his mind.

 

~•§•~

 

Sitting in his car the next morning, Chris drummed nervously at the steering wheel. Finally, he got out and briskly walked to the back entry of the bank. Chris nodded to Paige who was already in her usual seat, and Chris took his own position in his booth. Putting his briefcase close to his feet wasn't particularly suspicious. He’d done that many times before. He kept the briefcase open enough to make it possible to slip bundles of money into it during the morning when everybody was focused on serving the customers. If the robber didn't show up, Chris would simply put the money back again, and that would be the end of his short-lived dream.

The plan went just as he sequenced it would. Chris steadily put cellophane sealed money in his bag as the morning progressed. Then at 10.30 am - just as the next rush-hour of people coming to cash in their pay cheque, the same guy from yesterday arrived. Even though he hadn’t paid much attention to him yesterday, Chris still recognised him immediately and made sure not to let him notice.

Right away, the man went to lurk in the back corner fiddling with a piece of paper as he nervously looked around. Chris only cast one look in his direction to make sure he was still there and hadn’t backed out again like yesterday. 

Managing to slip in yet another package of money, Chris called out for number 57 that it was their turn to step forward. Seconds later, he saw the note being nudged toward him, and he quickly looked up and made eye contact with the robber. The wording on the note was the same as yesterday. Chris’ nerves were already wound painfully from anxiety and worry if he could even pull this off. But this was it - it was actually happening. A cloth bag was pushed through the hole in the divider; the robber's intentions were easily understood.

Chris opened the drawer next to him.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” the guy hissed, making a gesture with the object hidden in the pocket of his hooded top. He had a gun all right. Chris shook his head slowly, indicating that he wasn’t going to say anything. He probably couldn’t say anything at all by the way adrenaline made his entire body shake. Besides, he wouldn’t dream of drawing attention to this. The guy had to succeed and get out with the money. Wordlessly he began to put money into the bag. Then he slipped it back to the guy.

Turning slightly, Chris let the man see the contents of the drawer. “That’s all I have,” he mouthed silently, and his eyes darted nervously toward Paige who sent him a worried look back. Then she looked closer and she gasped. The guy pulled away violently just as Chris pushed the alarm button. Close to fainting from adrenaline, Chris closed his eyes and heard the commotion when the rubber forced his way to the exit and thank god disappeared. Notified by the sound of the alarm, Solano and Berbarian came out from the office and Chris could barely remember how to breathe properly.

“What’s going on?” the two men asked simultaneously.

“Chris has been robbed! There was a bank robber!” Paige cried out. The people in the bank seemed confused and shocked by the way they cried and talked. Most of them never caught on to what had just happened. 

“How much?” Solano immediately asked. “Did you pull the money clip?”

“I-I honestly have no idea, sir. I will have to count. And no. I couldn’t remember. I’m so so sorry,” Chris babbled, bending down and making sure his briefcase was closed. He honestly hadn’t even given the money clip a second’s thought. It was a standard procedure that instantly set off a silent alarm in the bank and sent a signal to the police. At least Mr. Solano had agreed to the subtle method of modern security, but Chris imagined the bank would have insurance conflicts if they didn’t have that arrangement.

“I’m calling 911,” Paige said and Solano nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, though the police is probably already on their way.”

“It’s for Chris. He’s in shock... and perhaps a few customers, too,” Paige said.

“We have to close. Sorry folks!” Berbarian said to the worried crowd of customers still present. Then he went to Paige and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm not the one who was just robbed,” she said dismissively and went to Chris. 

“How are you?” she asked Chris instead.

“I’m fine. I-I don't know,” Chris whispered confused. Looking up, he saw Solano letting out people before closing the bank telling them to stick around for the police to question when they arrived. The worry on his face was clearly not directed at Chris’ well-being, since he was already thinking about insurance. 

“After all these years… I am appalled,” Solano said. 

Chris didn't care when Ted and one of his colleagues arrived and asked questions right away. 

“Are you okay?” Ted asked.

“Yeah. I’ll cope.”

Then Chris gave a vague description of the bank robber as did Paige. It was strange how they came up with two different descriptions even though they had both witnessed the same guy. 

Chris thought the guy had dark eyes and a beard. About 5' 11", according to the tape measurement around the pole in the middle of the customer area. Dress code: Blue jeans and a white hooded sweatshirt. 

Paige had thought he had blue eyes based on how the sun hit his eyes when he left. No beard. Dress code: black jeans, a grey sweatshirt and white sneakers. Chris hadn’t noticed what the guy was wearing on his feet. 

None of them could tell his hair colour because of the hoodie.

“His hair was all obscured,” Chris elaborated.

“That’s a long word, Chris. Don’t fucking hurt yourself,” Berbarian needled him. “Were you even paying attention?” 

Chris was paying exceptional attention, just not to the topic Berbarian was talking about. His sole awareness was focused on the briefcase on the floor containing a lot of money. Money the guy didn't get in his bag.

Someone came and treated Chris for shock. He didn’t think he was genuinely shocked, and just pretended he was when he was asked. Still afterwards, he realised that perhaps he had been in shock. He hadn’t stopped shaking since the encounter and now he was completely drained.

After Chris had given his statement, Solano asked the officers to step into his office. They brought the written note with them.

“And Chris - find out how much he got away with.”

“Of course, Mr. Solano,” he replied in a daze.

“I'll help you,” Paige said. “I’ll just tend my till first.”

“Thanks,” Chris said gratefully. He was so full of adrenaline that he didn’t think he’d even be able to hold the remaining notes still in his hands.

He had a hard time counting correctly. His concentration went out the window because every other impression from the last two hours pushed forward and interrupted him. In the end, Paige had to count his till all by herself. After they had figured out how much money had been withdrawn by the customers up until the robbery, they subtracted that from the balance that morning. 

Paige looked crestfallen even if it wasn't her money. “Jesus, Chris... at least $280,000 are missing!”

Chris nodded, but didn’t voice his opinion on the matter. He just went and knocked on Solano’s door and came in. He put the note with the missing amount Paige had written on his desk.

“Can we go home now?” he asked.

Berbarian was about to reply when Solano said, “Of course, Chris.”

“Good day, then,” Chris said and closed the door.

When Chris picked up his bag, he’d almost forgotten that the money was there; that the bag would be heavy. He had to camouflage his surprise and heaved the bag into his arms nonchalantly. Paige wasn’t paying attention, she seemed in a hurry to leave and Chris couldn't blame her. 

Outside she stopped and looked at him with her head cocked. “Would you like to have a drink?”

“Now?” Chris almost spluttered.

“Too early?”

Chris laughed nervously. “No... not that. Listen, Paige. Had it been any other day but today I’d gone with you.”

“Oh... How insensible of me,” Paige chuckled embarrassed.

Chris shook his head. “Why don’t we do it Monday? When we’re not so shocked? We should be wicked, defy them, and go out Monday.” He pointed toward the bank indicating Mr. Berbarian and Mr. Solano.

“All right. I’ll hold you to that promise, Chris.”

“Have a nice weekend after all, Paige,” Chris said with a smile and waited until Paige’s car was gone. Only then did he dump his heavy load in the trunk of his car. 

The deputies were still around, and committing a crime so close to the law was surreal, but Chris felt no remorse. 

 

~•§•~

 

Mike was back safely at the house by the creek. He couldn’t remember if he’d run the entire way, but he was puking his guts out when he reached the shore. His nerves were frazzled and he couldn’t control his extremities.

Groaning and crying he went inside the house. What a horrible experience. Mike had done some disputable things while he’d been in the States, but pointing a gun at an innocent person... He hoped he never had to do that again. He didn’t even know he had it in him to act like that to get what he wanted. He dropped the gun on the floor. He’d been seconds from pulling that gun out of his pocket and pointing it visibly at the cashier with the dark hair and dark eyes. He’d seemed so calm, and it had only spiked Mike’s own nerves. But then the guy had looked him square in the eyes and showed him that the money drawer was empty. There was no more money he could put in the bag. Mike should have taken the girl’s money, too, but he’d already been there to long and panicked when the alarm went off. He’d fled.

Turning the bag upside down, the money fell out. Mike sat down heavily on his sleeping bag and looked at it. There wasn’t much – he could tell just by looking at it. There probably wasn’t even enough to cover his debt. Mike wiped at his moist eyes, got up, and kicked the gun further across the floor. It wasn’t even loaded.

There was no way he could get away with robbing the bank again another day. But perhaps an entirely different bank? He had to think and went to make himself a cup of tea and marmalade on wheat bread.

Turning on the radio, he was about to search for a station with some decent music, when the local news cut in.

“This morning, Noel State Bank & Trust was robbed. A source informs us that the sole bank robber got away with the staggering amount of nearly $280,000...”

The rest of that story was lost on Mike, as he stood with open mouth and just stared at the little radio in disbelief. “Fucking bollocks he fucking did!!” he finally managed to yell in outrage. How the hell was that already on the fucking news? And what the bloody hell was that fucking news lady talking about? There were never 280,000 dollars in Mike’s little pitiful bag. Rushing to the sleeping bag he began to count, but he ended up with just over $14,000. Not 280,000. 14,000. Not...

“Fuck!! Where did that money go?” There were just Mike and the cashier involved and he doubted anything happened after the alarm went off and the police arriving. So how could $265,000-ish disappear? Then it hit him. It must have been the little cashier. Mike remembered the bloke’s face again. Boyish, handsome dark features. Dimples. Too unruffled as if he already knew something Mike didn’t. 

“The fucking little deceiving cunt...” Mike said. 

Then for some reason he recalled his name tag. 

_Chris._

His name was Chris Pratt, his brain informed him a few seconds later. He’d remembered that, too somehow. A name like that shouldn’t be difficult to look up in the White Pages. And Mike was fucking definitely going to look up this bloke. To think he’d actually been worried about the way he’d treated him during the robbery and then the little twat had cheated Mike right under his bloody fucking nose!  
Mike didn’t care how this Chris individual had taken the money, but he had to admit it was a pretty clever idea. 

Perking up considerably, Mike realised that it would be easier to take the money from the cashier than trying to rob a second bank. But if the clerk needed the money, Mike would have to take it from him before he got around to spending it. However, it was still only past noon, and yet Mike doubted the bank was open for business the rest of the day when they were out of cash. He even thought it was fair to assume the staff had been sent home. Mike needed to check out Pratt’s address and so he put on a black long-sleeved t-shirt and a white button down on top of it before he ventured back into the town, keeping himself as inconspicuous as possible not to alert people. He wasn’t sure if he should keep the cap on or not. He finally decided not to wear it, because his description in the police rapport would mention the cap. With the loose hair and healthy tan, he supposed he looked harmless enough. Perhaps even a tourist – definitely not a thug. There was a reason his friends back home had accused him of being too posh and handsome for his own good. 

Mike managed to find a phone booth and when he looked up the name Pratt, the clerk was indeed listed. Mike ripped out the page along with a small map from one of the front pages and returned home to wait for the sun to set.

As it turned out, the bloke barely lived 500 metres from the creek. Mike could be there in five minutes. Perhaps he should invite himself for dinner?

Mike was in an incredibly optimistic mood now and packed up his stuff. Finally, he was getting somewhere and, if he played his cards right, he could be on a plane back to London maybe even tomorrow or Sunday – depending on how it went paying back the debt to Sid. 

Around 7pm, Mike grabbed the flashlight from the den and left the place hopefully for good.

 

~•§•~

 

Following the route to Chris Pratt’s home wasn’t as easy as Mike had thought. He walked the wrong way three times before he finally found the right one. When he arrived at the address, he saw a house uphill from street level. Carefully, he checked if someone could see him, but there were at least fifty metres between the properties. Walking up a cobbled path, he sneaked closer. It was a beautiful old white washed cottage clearly appealing for people who liked feeling safe and cosy. Mike could imagine a fireplace where Chris and his little missus would eat their meals in winter. Everything was probably neat and tidy, with rustic furniture for lazy lovemaking...

Mike realised he wished for these things for himself and, once he got his money, he would be able to afford a place like this, too. Right now though, he had to stick with the tough demeanour. He was on a mission, and the little shit inside the cottage had his money. He wasn’t going to leave before he’d gotten it back.

The house was lit in one room from the outside. Nearing the premises, it looked like the living room, but as Mike stood there watching, another light came on. Investigating, he went to the back yard and discovered that the light source came from the kitchen. Even better. Now he wouldn’t be seen from a passing car – in worst case scenario.

Mike walked up the little cobbled steps to the kitchen door and gazed through the window. The place was littered in small multicoloured post-it notes. Mike squinted his eyes and tried to survey the area when somebody entered the kitchen. Immediately, he recognised Chris Pratt. That confirmed that the address was the right one and Mike’s pulse crept up instantly. The bloke was preparing his dinner. The fumes reminded Mike that he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. The Chris individual looked quite calm; serene even. And definitely nothing like somebody who’d had the balls to steal $265,000 during someone else’s robbery. 

Pulling out the gun, Mike took a deep breath. “Just get it over with and forget you ever saw the fucking cunt,” he psyched himself. “Okay... okay...” he said and knocked on the windowpane. 

Startled by the sound, the cashier looked curiously towards the door. Wavering he stood a few moments and obviously decided he had to turn off the stove, before he came closer to check out who was paying him a visit at this hour.

“Come on... come on,” Mike chanted under his breath, and grabbed the gun harder as he stayed out of view.

Tentatively, the door opened. Before Pratt even got the chance to ask who was there, Mike ripped the door further open and forced his way into the kitchen. The strength of his action made the door snap back on its hinges and shut behind him, making Pratt literally jump back a few steps in fright. Mike moved forward putting on an intimidating scowl on his face.

“Where is my money?” he growled, menacingly pointing his gun at the cashier.

Pratt put up his hands to placate Mike. “Whoa... just... wait a second.” Chris Pratt stared positively terrified at the gun and then at Mike.

“Where is my money?” Mike asked again.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Chris answered looking genuinely confused.

“Oh, really? Don’t fucking play cute with me, you little twat,” Mike said, feeling indignant anger rising inside him. Why couldn’t he just cooperate and Mike could be out of here sooner than later?

“What are you talking about?” Chris repeated.

“Damnit! But fine. If you want to play that game. How about... You nicked $265,000? Does that ring a bell? There were definitely NOT 265,000 in _my_ bag... Chris...” The way Chris’ pupils widened, Mike knew he’d been right. “So they must be in _your_ bag,” he concluded. “So where did you fucking put it?”

Chris shook his head and, returning Mike’s intense look, he said, “I don't know what you're talk...” 

“Oh, you’re some fucking piece of work, man,” Mike interrupted growling, as he stepped all the way into Chris’ personal space. With a quick motion, he gripped around the back of Chris’ long slender neck. “I _want_ that bloody money,” he barked and pushed Chris out of the kitchen.

“W-what are you doing?” Chris asked alarmed.

“Let's go upstairs, shall we? Don't need a bloody nosy neighbour to come burrowing coffee, hm?” Mike grunted pissed off and fuelled by Chris’ blatant lie.

Chris didn’t have time to respond as he fought for balance when Mike steered him walking backwards toward the old staircase. It all happened so quickly. Mike made sure the cadence was fast enough that Chris couldn’t keep his balance without Mike taking control and slow enough that he wouldn’t fall.

“Up-up,” Mike said pushing Chris up the steps. Reaching out, he turned on the lights by the first step. Chris grabbled for Mike’s hand when he felt he was about to lose balance due to the sudden motion, but Mike reacted by pressing his gun between the cashier’s eyes.

“Jesus Christ!” Chris cried and moved up the stairs.

“Bedroom,” Mike commanded when they reached the first floor. Chris seemed as if the shock of Mike’s intrusion had only just manifested itself because he truly looked paralysed. To Mike, it didn't matter much, because he found the bedroom behind the first door on the right when he opened it.

“Get in,” he said and pushed Chris, when he didn’t respond and shoved him further until Chris landed on the bed.

 

~•§•~


	3. Chapter 3

~•§•~

 

The push cleared Chris’ head and, the second the robber’s hand left him, he tried to roll off the bed. However, he wasn’t fast enough, and his attacker flew at him and pinned him back to the bed.

“Oh!” Chris cried out as a stray knee collided with his hip pushing him down on the mattress.

“Stay put!” the guy said with all the warning there was to be had in his harsh voice. “Turn around on your stomach,” he said.

“No!” replied Chris, and was rewarded with the gun cocked close to his ear.

“I will shoot your fucking...” 

“No,” Chris interrupted him, because he knew what the consequences would be if he did. Years of training sequencing had taught him that much. “You won’t. Or you’ll never get the money you think I have - not that I have it!” Chris quickly added remembering what the consequences would be if he admitted he had it. He had to be so so careful filtering what he said to prevent himself from revealing any hints that lead to the money.

“Uhhhhh!” the guy yelled in frustration and climbed over to straddle Chris’ hips. Then he put the gun between Chris’ eyes again. “It would be a shame to blow out one of those pretty brown eyes of yours,” the guy said.

“Pretty?” Chris repeated being thrown by that comment. It was bad enough that the robber sat on his crotch. He didn’t want anything about him to seem pretty to this criminal.

“Yeah, you know you have pretty eyes, doncha?” the guy said.

Chris’ mouth was dry and he tried to get some control back by breathing out through his nose a few times. _Concentrate!_ Maybe he could surprise the robber if he was controlling the situation like he was, when he planned ahead with the robbery at the bank. Chris was still stunned by the fact he’d pulled it off... Only he’d forgotten that the robber could count.

The man still sat across Chris’ hips. They kept eye contact for a while, each sending equally displeased looks back-and-forth. 

“Admit it, Chris,” the robber said with a kitten soft voice that sent goose bumps down Chris’ arms to spread all over his body. He couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through his body the second after.

Chris gulped. _Please don’t get hard over him!_ he pleaded silently to himself, but he’d only just now realised how handsome the dude was.

“...and we can go from there. I need the sodding money, man,” the robber finished imploringly in a kitten kind voice Chris didn’t dare categorise right now.

“I don't have it,” Chris repeated his answer. He was not going to waver. He needed it, too. He didn't give a damn what the robber needed it for.

“Fine. If you don't have it. Where did you put it?” the guy asked and made an impatient gesture with both hands.

“I don't have it. At all!” Chris yelled. His anger was good and made him feel somewhat in control.

The guy cocked his head and smiled surprisingly sweetly until his face turned blank. “Nah. Sorry, man, but I just don't believe ya.” He opened up his arms. “But tell you what? Luckily, I have all the time in the world. And you, dear Chris, are not leaving this bed until you bloody well confess where you put my fucking money!”

Chris just harrumphed and focused on the ceiling. There was something surprisingly harmless about the guy trying to be intimidating. So much time had gone by now since he barged into Chris’ kitchen, but he hadn’t seriously threatened him yet.

“You are so going to jail,” he unwisely said. “Keeping me hostage here. I will be missed surely. I’m very punctual.”

“Over the weekend?” the guy taunted. “Unless you’re very social, I have a hard time believing anyone will miss you... until Monday... Chris.”

Chris couldn't help gulping again.

 

~•§•~

 

Jesus... what did it take for the guy to break? Mike lowered the gun and gritted his teeth. He was not going to hurt him. Definitely not. Chris Pratt might have been cunning enough to take the money in advance, but he was so green and Mike doubted the clerk had a criminal history. However, he could do other things to break his spirit and make him confess... like overstepping his boundaries.

“Take off your tie.”

Chris stared at him incomprehensibly and then his smooth forehead frowned. “What?” he slowly asked.

“You heard me,” Mike said and pressed the gun between his eyes again.

As Chris loosened his tie, he had the face of someone realising he wasn’t really the one in charge.

“Bind one end around your wrist and pull it so I can see the knot’s not going to unravel.”

Chris did as he said and Mike put down his gun and held on to Chris’ other wrist as he secured his hands above his head, tied to the headboard of the bed.

“I can still kick your nuts,” Chris said looking at Mike through lowered lashes.

Unimpressed, Mike looked back at him. “Where is the money?” he asked kindly and opened a button in Chris’ shirt.

“Why...” Chris asked taken by surprise by the unsuspected move, but then kept his lips shut.

“Where, Chris?” Mike asked opening another. “Eventually, you’ll have no buttons left, Chris...”

Chris looked like his brain was boiling over from trying to understand what Mike was insinuating.

“The money... Christopher. Pratt,” Mike said and smiled as he opened another button. He liked this game. Chris was particularly fine-looking from this angle. Even when he wasn’t smiling, his dimples showed. Actually, Chris wasn’t just fine-looking; he was Mike’s particular type. Mike just hadn’t had the reserve of strength to pay attention lately. Perhaps he should scare pretty Chris a little?

“That’s the last button,” Mike said and pulled the shirt up as far as it went to pool around Chris’ head. Chris wasn’t wearing an undershirt. His chest was slender. The ribcage showed delicately in the position he was in with his arms above his head. His olive hued skin was appetisingly smooth and faultless all over. Automatically, Mike reached out and circled one of Chris’ tiny warm areolas. The miniscule nipples puckered immediately at the contact. 

Unsuspectingly, Chris sucked in air and Mike saw how fear and uncertainty had returned to his eyes. Reaching out with his other hand as well, Mike used the back of his fingers to gently stroke across the erect pebbles. Such pretty predictable tiny things, and Mike wanted to lick and suck Chris’ perfect nipples to keep them hard, but succumbing to sex games would be a tactically bad move right now.

Confusion was written all over Chris’ face as he once more inhaled sharply. The words ‘please don’t hurt me’ were almost forming on his little soft boyish lips. Mike removed his hands again. He still had no intention of hurting the young clerk, but on the other hand, he would have to use more drastic methods to make him confess where he’d put the money.

“I think...” Mike said and moved a bit back on Chris’ hips, “that you know perfectly well where you put the money, man. Let’s see if we can find something more entertaining to kick start your memory, hm?” Mike opened the clerk’s pants button, and saw Chris nervously biting his lips. Eyeing him closely, Mike grabbed the zipper and pulled it down.

“Oooh...” Mike cooed when Chris’ boxer briefs were revealed.

Chris closed his eyes, and the mental struggle was comical. It was obvious how he fought panic lurking so dangerously close, and that he simply wouldn’t allow himself to do that. A small whine escaped him. Mike smiled when Chris closed his eyes to reel in his reaction.

“Give iiiin...” Mike sing-songed, seeing how Chris fought hard to keep his composure. It was beyond interesting to follow even though he didn’t want to spend more time with him than necessary. “Oooh... that’s nice. Björn Borg, huh? Always wanted to own some. Couldn’t afford them though,” he said and clucked his tongue. Then he moved down Chris’ legs and was now eye to eye with the young man’s crotch. “Anything to confess before I pull these babies down for a closer inspection?” Mike asked and cocked his head.

Chris was breathing more raggedly. His chest moving faster to process oxygen for his racing brain, but he still didn’t break. Mike smirked and folded his arm inwards before letting the back of his hand run over Chris’ crotch.

The clerk bit his lip to stop crying out in shock and closed his eyes. “Gods...” he whimpered in distress and pulled at his tied wrists.

“Off they go,” Mike said and sat up on his knees and roughly pulled at Chris’ trousers, revealing the rest of the underwear Mike had praised moments earlier. Chris wasn’t resisting much, and Mike was wondering if he was pretending; if he had some backup plan Mike hadn’t thought about. However, as he removed Chris’ shoes, the young man was still not resisting, and Mike got suspicious.

“Well, say something!” But Chris just stared back at Mike as he removed his socks and then pulled the trousers the rest of the way off as well.

“Are you actually gonna undress me?” Chris finally asked as Mike settled back on his hips.

“I really like small boys like you,” Mike said instead, but Chris scoffed and looked away. That fucking unsettled the Brit. An unrattled hostage? How undignified. But as he took in Chris’ frame anew, he had to rethink his court outburst. Chris’ proportions were small – even on the delicate side, but he could be the looker if he took the time and toned his body. Mike cleared his throat as he looked at him again. He let his hand rest on Chris’ small pec and slid his palm down his chest, over his clenching stomach and lower.

Looking up, he saw Chris’ eyes had followed his journey, although his head was turned feigning disinterest in what was going to happen to his body when he looked at him.

“Would you really let me do this...?” Mike asked lifting an eyebrow. Chris looked like he was thinking about it. “You’re too much composed for a kidnap victim.”

“You haven’t taken me anywhere,” Chris corrected him. “I’m your hostage.”

“It’s a fucking boring record, Chris,” Mike said and got off his hips and went to sit next to him, one leg akimbo on his knee. He pointed the gun at him again. Then he got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. Finding Chris’ neglected dinner; he was about to go back up and share it with Chris when his attention fell on those colourful Post It notes. Putting down the plate, he went and read some of them more closely.

\- Switch off the stove  
\- The key to the garbage is in the second drawer  
\- You don’t have a dog any more, Chris  
\- Close the lights in the bathroom  
\- The bag is in the ***

“The bag is in the what?” Mike said squinting at the note. Then he looked around carefully. There was a crumbled note in the garbage bag under the sink. When Mike picked it up he almost laughed. “Silly kid,” he said. He then quickly ran up the stairs to Chris’ bedroom.

 

~•§•~

 

Chris pulled at the tie, but it didn’t take long to establish that he couldn’t get out of the binding. Besides, the robber returned to his room.

“Here’s your dinner,” Mike said and stuck the fork into the food and began feeding Chris. Chris ate slowly and looked at the robber all the time. When he was done, the guy puttered about his bedroom, poking his nosy fingers in everything, picking up stuff and reading what wasn’t his business. 

“I need the toilet,” Chris said.

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Mike said and left the bed again.

Chris didn't actually have to use the bathroom, but it didn’t hurt to add whatever stress that he could. By now, Chris hoped the guy was just trying to shock him into revealing where he’d put the money. Also, it was obvious he was attracted to Chris. The way he touched him was born out of a genuine want to touch him because in reality, his attacker was incredibly gentle. Well, that could come in handy and hopefully soon. 

Their eyes met, and the guy had a determined look on his face. Moments later, he came over to join Chris on the bed again. “Okay. I think it’s time to move on.”

“I don’t care,” Chris said.

“About what?”

“About anything you plan on doing to me,” Chris said trying to bluff some confidence into himself.

“We’ll see about that,” the guy said and returned to sitting on Chris’ hips. 

Chris’ breath hitched and he closed his eyes.

“Nah... don’t close your pretty eyes, Christopher,” the robber said and put a hand under Chris’ chin. “Your soul is in there... along with an interesting history... right?” he asked, and Chris’ pupils dilated on commando. Shit. He had a bad feeling about this right now. There was no way he could possibly know... 

“What’s the story behind all the messages in your kitchen?” the robber asked cocking his head as he narrowed his eyes. “You have a problem remembering stuff, right?”

Chris parted his lips and couldn’t believe how all his messages that he didn’t need any more were going to backfire.

“You actually don’t remember where you put the money... so this... _Chris_...” The robber had a pink Post It note in his hand “...is a veeery important note for you, isn’t it?”

Chris tried to hide the panic in his eyes, but it was useless. He’d already revealed too much.

“I wonder if the... ‘I put the bag in the ***’, is the same bag I’m looking for?” the robber asked. “So where is it, Chris? Where is the bag?” he asked with a disturbingly sexual humming. Leaning forward, he put the adhesive note on Chris’ forehead and positioned his lips in front of Chris’. “Tell me,” he said and leaned closer still.

Chris could feel his warm breath across his lips.

“Is it perhaps this note?” the robber said and pulled back. He was holding a green Post It in his hand and Chris’ eyes immediately watered over in anger and frustration.

“Fuck you to hell!” he yelled at the robber and gritted his teeth. His vision was diffused by the tears as the robber smiled and leaned close again.

“It says... ‘*** is under the kitchen sink...’ ...doesn’t it?”

“You know it does if you say so,” Chris finally admitted.

“I did check. It wasn’t there.”

Genuine shock was visible in Chris’ face and the robber leaned back, apprehensiveness just as apparent in his face.

“Fuck...” he said. “So... you don’t know where the money is?” the robber stated. He looked at his gun but by now, it just hung in his hand as if he’d forgotten about it. Chris wasn’t so worried about the gun anymore. The guy hadn’t even cocked it once since he stepped into Chris’ home. 

“The money, Chris?” the robber asked harder.

Chris looked pained and he tried to concentrate on sequencing where he’d put the bag after he took it out of the trunk. However, the stress overrode his ability to remember in that exact moment.

“What’s your deal, Chris? What’s wrong?”

“Okay,” Chris said. Finally breaking, he told the robber what happened to him. “I was involved in a car accident a few years ago. I can’t sequence every day actions well, but I’m getting much better. I can’t...” Chris pulled at his ties. “I’m so fucking stressed right now.”

The robber quickly began untying the knots and seconds later, Chris was free. 

“C’mon. Up you go. We’ll figure this out, all right?”

“What? What we?” Chris asked incredulous. “Why do you need the money?” 

“Hey, I was there first, man. I wanted to the money before you even thought about robbing me!” The robber hit his own chest to illustrate that fact.

Chris nodded tightly. “Yeah. That I remember.”

“I have some serious crap going on in my life. I could get killed if I can’t deliver the money I owe.”

“How much do you owe?” Then Chris frowned. “What’s your name? I don’t know what to call you.”

The man looked taken by surprise but a sudden apathy slid over his face and he shrugged. “Mike. Call me Mike.”

Chris nodded. “Okay.”

“What did you tell the police by the way?” Mike asked.

“Just... what happened and what you looked like... Not that it’s any help to them because my colleague... the girl... gave them a whole other description than mine. Apparently, I didn’t actually notice much about your appearance. Which doesn’t come as much of a surprise to any of the people present there today due to my... condition.”

In spite of how intimidating Mike tried to be today, Chris found that he wasn’t. About Chris’ height only slightly taller. Mike’s hands and wrists were fine, with a slim pointed nose and manly chin. His gentle blue eyes were surrounded by smiling lines. And it made Chris smile; because these traits only confirmed that his initial estimation had been right. Mike was utterly harmless. 

“Wow...” Mike said and chuckled a little. “Anyway... I owe $120,000... Unless it’s escalated since the last time I checked and, with those greedy arseholes, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“120,000 dollars?” Chris said aghast. “What on earth did you spend that much money on?”

“I haven’t actually spent that much money. It just escalated, all right?... but drugs amongst other things. I’m an addict,” he said and added quickly, “But I’m not on it anymore... since recently...”

“But you think about it all the time?” Chris assumed.

“Yeah...” Mike admitted. “Well... some of the time. It’s tough going cold turkey on your own, but I did it.” Mike smiled like he allowed himself the pat on the back for a moment. “And then you took my money. That’s a lot to process in a week.”

“You detoxed a week ago?” Chris blurted. “Jesus Christ, really!” Chris wasn’t sure why he was so worked up about it, but then he said, “I was close to becoming a painkiller addict... after the accident.”

“That’s not even my excuse,” Mike said. “I just got into the wrong kind of company with arseholes offering the shit for free and before you knew it you were hooked. Cost me my scholarship and a promising career I carelessly just flushed down the toilet.” Mike held up his hands. “But hey. It was my own fault. Nobody twisted my arm behind my back and force fed me that first hit.”

Chris was a little stunned to hear all that. And yet he’d noticed one little detail. “You’re not from America... where are you from?”

Mike’s eyes shifted a second to the side, clearly thinking what brought that up. “Born here in the US but grew up in the UK... why?”

“That explains the accent.”

Mike sighed. “If you say so. Let’s go downstairs, Chris. We can start looking for it somewhere.”

“I’m not handing you the money,” Chris pointed out and then closed his mouth tightly. 

“Chris? Drop it already. You never ever for even just a second convinced me that you didn’t have the money,” Mike said and cocked his head insinuatingly.

“You’ll probably just blow it on drugs anyway.”

“Not really! Hashtag Fucking Cunt!” Mike relied angrily.

“W-what?” Chris asked confused.

“Never bloody fucking mind,” Mike said gritting his teeth.

Chris just grunted annoyed. His case was obviously dismissed. “Can I at least get dressed?”

“If you must,” Mike groused.

“I do,” Chris replied.

“You’re surprisingly timid considering the balls you had to rob the bank yourself.”

“I’m... Yeah. I’m not even sure where the idea came from. As far as I know, I was pretty well-adjusted. At the same time, I was a dare devil on skaters - I used to play ice hockey. One night I drove my car recklessly because I loved having fun. Maybe the balls came from there? I was popular, had great friends...” Chris stopped not knowing what to answer the man. “I used to have a girlfriend.”

Mike smiled. “You seem like the type. And now?”

“Nothing. Nobody likes me besides my family and my old roommate Lewis. And he’s blind... but perceptive and wouldn’t take any of my bull shit, as I tried to get my life back. Helped a lot...” Chris stopped again. He realised he was treating Mike like a friend, but Chris didn’t have any friends any more. He became conscious of the fact that he was starved for conversations like this. “And you?”

 

~•§•~

 

Mike smiled but nodded and thankfully Chris seemed to want to share some more. “I’ve had a few girlfriends myself. Nothing serious. I’m not exactly playing for that team.”

Chris frowned adorably and Mike smiled wider. What Chris had just told him meant a lot. Like Chris, Mike had forgotten what it felt like to talk to a normal person, too. He missed Jakes a lot right now and this time, he was truly hoping his friend was unharmed.

After various facial expressions had passed Chris’ face, he finally asked, “But how can you not at least be bisexual if you’ve had girlfriends?”

“Depends on what you do with them, doesn’t it?” Mike smirked; entertained by the fact that Chris was so unimaginative about the subject. “Nah, I’ve shagged my share of birds when I was young and didn’t know any better, but I’m definitely gay.”

“Oooh...” Chris shuddered uncomfortable. “Was that why you undressed me?”

Mike laughed as Chris hurried to pick up his clothes and put them on. “Oh, Chris. Really?” Mike chuckled and came close, even though Chris tried to back further away. 

“You’ve had your paws all over me, so excuse me for feeling just a little...”

“I know and for that truly I am sorry. I apologise, Chris,” Mike said and meant it. “I swear I would never have hurt you. We were negotiating and you didn’t provide, all right?”

The bed was in the way and Chris ended up sitting on it, or else he’d trip on his pants legs.

Mike squatted in front of him and smiled up at Chris’ flushed face. “I wasn’t even coming on to you. I just wanted my money... I still want my money but neither of us has it at the moment.”

Chris quickly finishing getting dressed. Now he sat fiddling with his fingers looking into Mike’s eyes.

“You used to have a girlfriend?” Mike encouraged him to make him stop thinking about being molested. He didn’t need any reminder from the last sexual experience he’d had before the robbery plans took place. 

“Well, she was in the car with me when I had the accident. She lost a leg and doesn’t talk to me anymore. It’s just that I can’t remember being in love with her,” he confessed out of nowhere.

“You’ve forgotten the emotion?”

“No. I love my parents and... and Janet... my therapist...” Chris stopped. He didn’t actually love Janet. He was turned on by Janet, but Mike... Chris’ eyes wandered to the Brit’s lips, the gracious features of his kind and handsome face. To a certain degree, he’d begun finding the man attractive even if he was being such a shit to him. Mike was hot like the two guys making out on the TV show the other night.

The fluster that threatened to take over his emotions was not helping him at all, and quickly Chris said, “C’mon. Let’s go down to the kitchen, Mike.”

“Right,” Mike agreed and got up.

“Where did you find the notes?” Chris asked.

“In the kitchen...” Mike said and stuck the gun in the back of his pants. Chris darted his eyes toward him at the motion. 

Mike saw it, too, and shrugged. “By now, I think we both know I’m not actually going to use it.”

“O-okay...” Chris said feeling a little thrown by that. Then he closed his eyes in concentration. He couldn’t even exploit the fact that Mike wasn’t going to use the gun. Because right this very second, he had no idea where he put the briefcase with the money. He only knew where he’d planned to put it but clearly hadn’t managed to. So... he had to admit that he needed Mike’s help or the guy could be there all weekend pestering him about the money. Hopefully, he’d figure out something smart when he remembered where he’d put the bag. He just never imagined this scenario at all. So why would he worry about sequencing a worst case scenario like this? 

Trying to be on top of the game as much as pathetically possible, he replied, “Obviously, you found the note in the kitchen, but _where_ in the kitchen?”

“Let me show you,” Mike said and together they went back downstairs.

As soon as they were there, Mike pointed to a cupboard. “The pink note was on that one, but I already searched it.”

Chris opened the lid and checked the contents as well. No, his briefcase wasn’t there. “I don’t understand...” Chris stood up and looked at Mike. “You could just have taken the money and pretend you didn’t find them...” he suggested.

“Sure. And leave you tied up on the bed for _nobody_ to ever find and leave the house? I’m not that cruel,” Mike said appalled.

“Fuck...” 

“Say we do find the money... We could split it,” Mike put forward.

“Would 120,000 be enough? Wouldn’t you want some extra?” Chris asked.

Mike sighed and listlessly opened the lid to a couple of top cupboards. “It wouldn’t be right to take more than half, would it?”

Chris put his arms around himself and looked out into the darkness from the kitchen window. “Then you wouldn’t have anything left.”

Mike would still have the money he got from the robbery, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Tell me this then,” Chris continued, “...why would these people you owe settle with that, if suddenly you can deliver that much money? Wouldn't they just... want more? If you’ve become a money maker over night?”

Mike looked down and put his palms flat on the counter and leaned forward heavily. Seeing his distorted reflexion in the tiles in front of him, he slowly nodded. “I hadn’t really thought about that. Not even for a second,” he whispered hoarsely. “Being a drug addict makes people stupid, Chris. I wanted to become a lawyer and I couldn’t even predict this!”

“Okay... calm down, Mike,” Chris said taken back a little by Mike’s outburst.

“Imagine that! A bloke with a _fucking sequencing dysfunction_ thought this out better than me.”

Chris nodded silently, but he had to admit he was rather proud of how smartly he’d sequenced the logic conclusion of Mike’s predicament. The last thing he wanted was for someone to sink even deeper into the mess that got them there in the first place. He knew then that he’d unconsciously made a decision.

“Mike,” Chris said, “I would like to share the money with you, too, when we find them, but you do not give your share to these people. They don't need it. We do.”

Mike snorted and turned around to smile at Chris. “We?”

Chris smiled back, his admittance making his cheeks flush, his dimples show, and generally making a fetching display of himself. “Yeah, _we,_ ” Chris said, and shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, as if now it wasn’t a big deal getting all the money himself.

They looked at each other for some long moments and then they set into action and began to search the kitchen for that goddamn important briefcase.

 

~•§•~

 

Unexpectedly, there was a knock on the kitchen door, and both young men stopped with a loud gasp each. Pushing her little nose close to the pane was Paige of all people.

Her eyes shifted interestedly from Chris to Mike, and Chris realised with a shock that his shirt was still unbuttoned. His fingers began to fidget with a button.

“Don’t button it up. It’ll look even more suspicious. Who is she?” Mike asked quietly, as he drifted closer toward the stairs.

“My colleague from the bank. She didn’t get your resemblance right either in her statement to the police, remember?” Chris replied.

“Still, I think I’ll go upstairs,” Mike said and darted up the steps in a hurry.

“Okay,” Chris breathed a little dazed and went to open the door for her.

“Hey, Chris,” Paige said and smirked. “Where did your friend go?” She looked around the kitchen curiously.

“He’s...uh... he had to go upstairs.”

“Obviously. I had no idea you had friends outside of the bank.”

“I have a few friends from Southwest City. I just don’t see them so often. We’re not that close... And I guess I still have a few friends here, but... uhm... you know.”

“Yeah. They pretend you don't exist when they pass you in the street.”

“Well...” Chris nodded. “What can do for you?”

“So I was still kind of hoping we could grab that naughty drink tonight... your friend can join us?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I think I needed to unwind tonight. Can we do this another ti...”

“Chris... If you’re gay, I completely respect that...” Paige said, pleading him to understand she was totally okay with it.

“What?” Chris spluttered. “What are you talking about? I’m so not gay!”

“Your shirt’s open,” Paige pointed out with a wry smile.

“Uh... right. I was aware of that. I was... uh... I was... uh...” Chris’ expression went vacant, like a new operating system booting up, because he simply didn’t know how to answer that. He couldn't predict the consequences the implications being alone with another guy with his shirt open would make. He’d never been in this situation before where he was assumed to be gay. He felt trapped and helplessness shot through his body making his voice and hands shake; readying his body to take flight from the danger that was Paige’s insinuations. 

Then Paige laughed softly. “Slow down, Chris. The reason you and I click so well is because I know you’d never hit on me.”

“I would totally hit on you... guh...” Chris repeated automatically, wincing inwardly because he sounded like a broken record even to himself. But he’d been so sure he would have hit on Paige, and yet the truth was that he probably never would have. He’d tried to hit on Janet so many times, and only now he wondered if she had gotten the same vibes and didn’t want to hurt his feelings asking him if he was gay while he went through all the other shitty things he was struggling with at the time. Besides, the fantasies he’d tried to conjure when he jerked off were never good. He just didn’t get turned on by them, and Paige and Janet were two hot girls. For a split second, Chris tried to push forward memories of what his jerk off catalogue truly consisted of before the accident: However, he came up blank and his reaction must have showed on his face.

“It’s no big deal if you are,” Paige quickly assured him. “You’ve just never hit on me, Chris, so I wondered.”

Feebly, Chris tried to produce some kind of explanation and replied, “Well. It’s because Toros is such a dick. I wouldn’t want you to feel...”

“I can handle Toros. You know that. My evasive action skills are pretty advanced and I know self-defence,” Paige said and winked.

Chris couldn’t help laugh. “Yeah. You’re scarily good at that.”

“Look, Chris. I’ll leave so you can be with your mysterious boyfriend. You should just have said so. I’d have understood.” And then she turned and left Chris standing there with his mouth agape.

A quiet chuckle interrupted him from the bottom step of the staircase, where Mike sat resting his elbows on his knees.

“Boyfriend?” Mike asked with a big smile on his face.

“Shut up,” Chris muttered.

Then Paige knocked on the door again. “Chris?”

Chris jerked in surprise but managed to respond, “Y-yeah?”

“I think you forgot your briefcase outside?” 

“What?” Chris asked not understanding, but he heard Mike’s sharp intake of breath.

“Your briefcase is still on the roof of your car. You’ve taken this harder than I thought, Chris,” Paige said.

Chris looked at Mike who got up carefully.

“O-okay! I’ll go get it. Don’t worry about it!” he told her and went outside, afraid she’d try grabbing the case for him.

“Don't work too hard, Chris. Take it easy. They’re not paying you for overwork,” Paige said.

“I promise. It’s just a few things from yesterday.”

“Take care of yourself. It’s been a rough day. Sure you’re okay?” she asked friendly.

“Y-yeah. I’m... m-my friend is helping me,” Chris stuttered nervously.

Paige’s smirk was gone when she read Chris’ distress. “That’s great, Chris. Good night.”

“Have a safe trip home,” Chris said and walked her out. When she stood on the road, he waved one last time and grabbed the briefcase. Then he went back inside the house.

 

~•§•~


	4. Chapter 4

~•§•~

 

“Still not trusting me?” Chris asked, when he found Mike’s eyes resting on him with scrutiny.

Mike shrugged. “It’s nothing personal.” Then he made a motion to have Chris come forward. Not sure what Mike wanted, Chris obliged. He dropped the case on the floor and finished the motion towards the Brit.

“That was a little rough for you.” Mike rubbed his palms up and down Chris’ arms a few times and shook his shoulders a little. “Loosen up. She’s gone.”

Chris nodded and took a deep breath, trying to shake the nerves away.

Mike let go of him and rested against the counter. With relief, Chris noticed that he hadn’t pulled his gun out.

“Let’s have a look,” Mike said and Chris turned and reached for the bag.

“Not here, silly.” Mike flicked him teasingly on the shoulder. “Upstairs. You go first.”

Nodding, Chris walked to the staircase feeling the heavy load of the money in his arms. Imagine he’d let all that cash sitting outside for anybody to go and take. Mike could have just grabbed it before he broke into the house and taken off. Chris wouldn’t have been any bit wiser. He would have searched for that briefcase for the rest of his life. Frantically waiting for the police to come and arrest him anytime soon.

On the landing, Mike grabbed the briefcase from him and demonstrating with delight how heavy it felt when his arm muscles strained a little to carry the weight.

“I can’t believe you forgot to bring it inside,” he said to Chris.

“Me neither. I can’t remember anything from when I left the bank and until you showed up. I can’t even remember writing the notes beforehand.”

Entering the bedroom, Mike brought the briefcase to the bed. When the young clerk joined him by the bed, Mike put a hand on his back. He had to admit that he enjoyed the fact that Chris didn’t flinch by his touch now.

“You open it,” Mike said and pursed his lips in anticipation.

Chris took a deep breath and unsnapped the flaps that held the bag closed. Both men inched closer and when Chris pulled the case open, they smiled with pure joy. The bank notes were safely inside. And there were a lot of them.

“200,000...” Mike sighed.

“265,000,” Chris corrected him.

“For us,” Mike said and let his hand slide all the way around Chris to rest on the other side of his waist. When Chris still didn't flinch, Mike pulled him in and Chris turned his head to smile.

“We did a good job.”

“Yeah. We did a _great_ job.” Mike thought in for a penny in for a pound and embraced Chris fully into his arms.

Chris bit his lower lip. “Why are you doing this?”

“You don't seem to mind.”

“I don't know what I want right now.”

“You want the money. You definitely want the money, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And you get to see me walk out of here.”

“If you say so...” Chris said and looked away.

Mike smiled and let go of Chris with one hand to grab his chin and lift Chris’ face. “What’s that, Christopher?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be happy to see you go,” Chris clarified and looked him straight in the eye.

“I’m a bad boy, Chris,” Mike said even though he wasn’t a bad boy by nature - just circumstances.

“I’m not looking for a relationship...” Chris blurted out. “I’m not... I’m not gay...”

“Are you looking for a friend, maybe?”

“I’m looking for someone to do what we did tonight. To talk to without feeling on guard and judged.”

“I tell you what?” Mike said and let go of him. He sat down on the bed. “I like talking to you. As such, I don't care what you did. You can’t change that and I did things I shouldn’t have as well. So we both fucked up some stuff. With this money, we have a chance to start all over again. We just happen to have chosen to share that experience with each other - or apart...”

“Not apart. Let’s move some place.”

“Move...”

“Do you still have your passport, Mike?”

“Yeah. Thank fuck I still have that one.”

“Then let’s move to England.”

“But your family?”

“I love my family, but they treat me like I’m made of glass. It would do me good idea to get away from them for a while.”

“And you want to move to London?”

“If that’s where you come from?”

“It is. Man...”

“You could pick up your law studies?”

Mike laughed softly. “Yeah. I suppose I could. And you?”

“I don't think I want to do anything just right away.”

“You should have some kind of plan. Can’t just wilt away in London. It’s romantic at first, but you need to figure out what you want to do.”

“Can’t I do that when I get there? I just think it’s a good idea to lay low.”

“Your friend saw you’re distressed. Call in sick. It’s only natural. You’re a little frazzled anyway mentally...” Mike stopped to check if Chris took it the wrong way. He didn’t. “And then after a while you quit the bank because you never got over the experience of being robbed.”

“I seemed fine...”

“Yeah, but you’ll suffer from post traumatic stress disorder or what’s it called. It’s a delayed reaction.”

Chris smiled. “I’ve had quite a lot of that as my memory started to come back. A minor breakdown sounds plausible.”

Mike grabbed a few of the notes and put them down again. “It’s bloody plausible because it’s the truth. And I know I’m not the whole cause of it, but I’m guilty of some of it, and for that I am sorry, Chris.”

“Okay,” Chris said and smiled.

“You’ve got some fucking seductive dimples, man,” Mike said and stroked across Chris’ cheek with his knuckles.

Chris turned away and cursed the blush that tinted his face. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

“What?” Mike asked smiling. “Why? Does it bother you? You’re such a darling.”

“Yes. It bothers me. I’m not your boyfriend.”

Mike sighed and reached out and cupped Chris’ face. “Why does it bother you?”

Chris closed his eyes for a few moments to concentrate and then he looked Mike in the eye. “It’s new to me having some guy come on to me and I don't know if...”

“Chris?” Mike asked and cocked his head. “Does talking about this give you a hard on?”

“Jesus Christ, Mike!” Chris shouted embarrassed and pulled out of Mike’s loose grasp. He left the bedroom in a huff.

“I mean... it’s perfectly all right if you do!” Mike called after him. A giggle followed shortly after. He was so bad. He wasn’t any better than that Paige character. He was certain though that Chris secretly enjoyed it.

Going to the bathroom, Chris closed the door after him. Yes. Fine. He did have a hard on. Mike gave him a hard on with his intimate touches, his ridiculously handsome face, and that sexy voice. And Chris _liked_ it. He liked being held by somebody assuming it was a brand new feeling and, in spite of what Mike subjected him to earlier, he liked how the Brit made him feel: A person somebody else found sexy and not just an invisible, handicapped kid, who used to be the natural centre of a tight knitted group of friends.

“Chris?”

“Yeah... I-I didn’t lock the door. You can come in.”

Mike wasn’t going to be told twice and stuck his head in and smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to...” Then he grinned. “Hell, I was trying to get a reaction out of you.” He came in all the way and stood next to Chris with his hip checking the counter.

“I don’t know what I feel. I’ve never felt these things before. I’ve never esponded to another guy,” Chris said.

“It’s not dangerous. Finding out just messes with your sanity for a while.”

“I don't need another stigma.”

“Big words... but I get it. It was quite daunting to me, too.”

“I’m not gay...” Chris hissed.

Mike snorted. “Well... a little bit, huh?” Mike said and measured an inch between his fingers.

“Shut up. Shut up,” Chris said and closed his eyes.

Mike straightened and went behind Chris and put his arms around him. “Relax, man,” he whispered into his neck and Chris leaned back and did as Mike asked. It felt a bit like surrendering and Chris’ shoulders sagged. Mike’s face moved around and their cheeks touched resembling a dance even if they were rooted to the spot.

“Turn, please,” Mike asked and when Chris turned in his arms, he saw the adorable moody expression on Chris’ mouth; reluctant but slowly coming around.

“You and I are going to escape with all this money. Are we going to be sensible and use it together over a long period, or are we going to blow it all the second we land in Heathrow?”

Chris smiled. “Before the accident, I’d have said blow it all, but with the way I am now and for the rest of my life... I’m cautious.”

“I was living too fast myself. Money went the second I got it. Enough was never enough. I’m in for caution, too.”

“How easily can these people get to you?”

“Right. I almost got caught before I came here, so the answer is: too easy. I can’t use my phone or credit card says Jakes - a friend of mine. So I haven’t used anything digitally that can be traced back to me.”

“No phone calls? Credit cards?”

“Nope. Nothing. Just what little cash I had on me.”

“Smart.” Chris squinted and thought for a moment, letting his mind open up to the challenge. “Okay. How about we dress sharp in suits. Looking like clean cut businessmen because we’d be more invisible. No offence, but the way you look screams ‘search my suitcase’, and we can’t have that.”

Mike knew he was right so he just shrugged in agreement. “Good. So we purchase these suits next week...?”

“I have one so I’ll just use the one I use in the bank. And then it’s ticket buying time.”

“We can’t buy my suit in Noel, right?” 

“No, we should go for a ride. I also need to re-new my pass port. And apply for a visa.”

Mike smiled. “It doesn’t matter that it takes a bit of time. We need time to work for us now, so your sick leave seems more plausible.”

“So... I go to work Monday?” Chris asked.

“Yes. Seem normal, but already in the afternoon, perhaps the experience will get to you and you go home. Your PTSD excuse. Maybe go see your doctor? Stuff like that.”

Chris nodded. “I probably should have gone seeing my doctor or at least my therapist. I definitely should have contacted my therapist.”

“It’s not too late,” Mike said.

“Right. I better call her,” Chris said and went to find his phone. “Have you seen my phone?” he asked distractedly already as he went down the stairs.

Mike dropped his jaw by the familiarity Chris didn't seem to have noticed. He went after Chris and said, “Yes, darling. I’m positive you left it on the dresser this morning before going to work,” he joked. He caught up with Chris in the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Winking he continued, “You know, after we shagged three times and the neighbour drove down to complain about the noise...” 

Chris’ face looked flushed and embarrassed when he understood what Mike had just said.

“Oh, really?” Then he jiggled his phone and came a few steps forward. Lifting the phone he took a picture of Mike.

The Brit took it calmly. “Why did you take my picture?”

Confused their banter was cut short, Chris looked a few seconds before it dawned on him. “Oh, fuck. D’you want me to delete it?”

“No. Unless you intend to use it for other purposes than a memory?”

“I just thought you looked...”

Mike smiled and shrugged. “I hope we are on the same page, Chris.”

“We are,” Chris said without hesitation.

Mike grinned and picked his iPhone from his pocket to take a picture of Chris, but the younger man ran up to him and snatched the phone out of his fingers, before Mike pushed the appropriate button.

“iCloud! You could be traceable,” Chris quickly warned.

“Jesus, Chris!” Mike cried out. Then he understood what Chris had done and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Cheers... I’d completely forgotten,” he admitted.

“Any digital actions, remember?”

“Yeah. I’m just impressed that you did!”

Chris shut the phone off all together and stepped up to Mike and put it in his back pocket. 

Mike couldn’t help smirking and put his arms loosely around Chris’ waist and pulled him closer. “So... can you handle a bit of acting on Monday?” he asked him.

Chris’ cheeks hadn’t diminished their pretty colouring or the prominent appearance of dimples and Mike leaned in to rub his nose into one of them. Tensing, Chris hitched but didn’t move his head. Mike slid his lips across Chris’ and smiled when Chris chased them as they passed his by.

Still awed that he was responding so passionately to another guy, Chris was thrilled by their proximity and about the crime he’d promised they’d see through together. Their lips met again and with a sigh, Chris surrendered. His body knew better what he wanted than his brain anyway.

 

~•§•~

 

The weekend was spent in pleasurable companionship. Mike didn’t go further with Chris but kisses, and instead took his time getting to know him. Chris was a delight for sore eyes. His smile lit up the room and he tended to do so every time he looked at Mike. 

They followed what little news there was from the robbery. Chris’ picture was in the local papers along with Mr. Solano’s. 

Generally, the bank was scolded for its poor security system in comments from the readers.

So far, there were no leads, except from Chastity from the convenience store. She had given the police a statement that some jumpy guy not from Noel had claimed he was visiting Abby Walters at the retirement home the day before the robbery took place. She told the police that she thought it was a strange thing to say since Abby Walters was one of the local benefactresses still living in her own home with her husband. The girl had given a vague description of a gaunt looking sloppily dressed guy, medium built, greasy brown hair, and desperate ‘evil’ eyes. Nothing else was mentioned about the matter. She even admitted she could have misunderstood him. 

“Why did you talk to her?” Chris asked.

“It... I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t approach her at all! I wasn’t in a state where I wasn’t thinking that further ahead other than how to get away from Sid’s goons and how much food I needed to stay alive while detoxing.” He looked at Chris. “I mean - what the hell do you answer to a question like that? ‘Don’t they feed them?’ It just came out.”

“Yeah... but Abby Walters?” Chris smiled because it was funny thinking about that uptight woman being fed what Mike referred to as ‘spam’ in the retirement home.

“You don’t actually have real spam here, but trust me... it’s... it’s all right... if you don’t have an alternative to fresh meat,” Mike elaborated.

“I think I’ll pass,” Chris said. “Still, it’s a threat to us.”

“Yeah... It is.”

Mike was still irked that he hadn’t prepared his fake background better, but he’d been stressed, hungry for a fix, and trying to be inconspicuous. That hadn’t worked well. At least he didn’t look like that anymore. His hair was clean, the tan he sported made him look anything but gaunt. He’d never get recognised from any of the descriptions circulating the news and police rapports.

 

~•§•~

 

Sunday evening, Chris was making dinner with Mike by his side. They took their time chopping, cooking, baking, and making out. Mike was falling for the younger man and felt a deep satisfaction when he held him in his arms and Chris wanted to be there every time. 

Chris set the table as Mike prepared to divide their meal.

Chris’ phone rang, and he answered, smile so prominent it translated into his tone of voice. “Hi, Paige!” He looked at Mike who was mixing the salad. “Do I what?” Chris was still looking at Mike who stopped mixing. “Um... I was about to get some supper...”

Mike’s eyes quickly sharpened. “You’re alone. You can go if she invites you,” he quickly whispered.

“Ooo-okay... sure. I’d like that. We certainly deserve that after this week, right?” Chris tried to chuckle nervously. “Oh, you are? No, I don't mind. No-no. I’m all alone. Look, I can be there in an hour, so why don’t you make reservations? Great. I’ll see you guys there. Bye-bye.”

“So?” Mike asked.

“Movie. With her and her _boyfriend..._ ” Chris lifted an eyebrow. “We didn’t know that at work.”

“Good for her. That will keep that Berbarian person away from her.”

“I don't think he would care if she wore a wedding ring. Some guys just like to push other people.”

“Yeah. You’re unfortunately right. Well, we’d better hurry up this thing if you’re going out.”

“Sorry.”

“No, man. It’s fucking perfect,” Mike said.

“Should I get a little weak or... start playing the part?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Good idea. So if they suggest something after, say you’re not feeling well and that notion is continued tomorrow when you go home early.”

Chris smiled and they shared a big kiss just for being brilliant together. Quickly, they had a hurried dinner, and then Chris changed his clothes and left the house.

 

~•§•~

 

Being alone in the house for the first time, Mike went to have a long shower. Chris would probably be home within four hours, but hopefully not that long.

Mike did the dishes and put everything in the cupboards. He smiled at the faded old Post It notes from Chris’ past where he still had trouble remembering how to sequence basic routines. He didn’t touch them. Maybe some of them were still necessary.

Finding a soda in the fridge, he plunked himself on the sofa and turned on the telly. He found an episode of Jeopardy and came up with outrageous questions to the answers. 

Then Chris called. There was still about an hour left.

“Mike?”

“Yeah..?”

“It’s me. I’m in the bathroom. Paige is crazy. She’s literally interrogating me about you.”

“What have you told her?” Mike asked and sat up.

“That... Um... I’m confused. I can’t fucking remember what I said and she’s really tenacious.”

“Tell her that you lied and that I’m just some guy you picked up two weeks ago. All we do when we see one another has been fucking each other’s brains out. I work in the deli at Wall-Mart in Pineville. I’m not interesting, but I have a huge dick. You may blush - and now get the fuck back home,” Mike said.

“Jesus, she’s not gonna buy that, Mike,” Chris hissed scandalised. 

“She’s kept her own love life a secret from you, remember, so who’s she to judge?”

“Right. You’re right. Okay... I can do this.” 

“How’s the feeling poor thing doing?”

“It’s coming naturally. I do feel unwell.”

“Work on it.”

Chris hung up.

Mike turned off the telly and felt agitated. Perhaps it had been a stupid idea to send Chris out and try to improvise. That Paige character was too perceptive.

Half an hour later, Chris was back home.

Relief flooded through Mike when he opened the door, and Chris practically fell into his arms.

Mike understood one thing for certain. He wasn’t thinking about the prospect of losing the money in that moment. He was just glad that Chris was home safely. He hugged the younger man in his arms for so long that Chris became squeamish.

“It’s okay, Mike. I’m all right.”

“How did it go?” Mike asked and let go of him.

Chris went and took off his jacket before he came back into the living room. “She looked really funny in the face when I told her, but seemed pretty unfazed by it. Said she didn’t need details from my sex life.”

Mike laughed. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. She said she could tell when I lied and when I didn’t.”

“And still she believed that lie?”

“Sounded better than anything _I_ could come up with, Mike,” Chris said as he toed off his shoes leaving them in the middle of the floor.

Mike kissed him, and Chris really needed that kiss, because he went back into his arms and put all the passion he had into it. Mike was swept away on emotions, too, and the two slipped upstairs and fell on the bed. 

“What do you want?” Mike asked in between eager kisses.

“I don’t know,” Chris complained. “What can I get?”

“Anything you want,” Mike said. “I’ll give you everything you could possibly want.”

“Then suggest something from your generous repertoire,” Chris said which made Mike laugh.

“Oh, man. In that case, you don't know what you’re wishing for.”

“Which is the point,” Chris said, and Mike framed his gorgeous little impish face.

“I wanna suck you off so bad,” Mike said.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Since Friday, man,” Mike smirked. 

Chris smiled. Yeah. Friday, when Mike tried to scare Chris into telling him about the money by threatening to harm him. “Do that... Like Friday.”

“You kinky little bastard,” Mike said impressed. The thought alone was hot and he got hard. Well, he was already hard, but this made him positively harder.

Chris smiled back, and Mike put on his business face and rolled on top of Chris.

“Scarf. We need a scarf, Chris.”

“I’m not sure I have one. But I have ties, right? Look in the bottom drawer in the wardrobe.”

Mike was quick on his feet and went to have a look. The drawer he pulled out didn't keep any ties, but Chris had knee long sports socks from his time as an athlete and they would do.

Mike knotted together a pair and then he sat down on Chris’ body. “Lift your arms.”

“Why?” Chris asked.

“I want to tie you up and do unspeakable things to you,” Mike said with an eye roll stating the obvious, “If I go too far, the safe word for me to stop is...?”

“What?”

“That’s not a great safe word, Chris,” Mike joked.

“Oh... um... London!”

“Okay, we’ll use that.” Then Mike motioned for Chris to lift his arms. “I’m gonna tie you up and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I...” Chris looked a little insecure, but Mike hoped it was just him getting into character. “Perhaps you should tighten that. I don’t think I was ever into kink, but I haven’t succeeded in hooking up with anybody since my accident, so I don’t know.”

Mike laughed delightedly. Okay. They were on the same page.

“So... what did the tiresome little Miss Paige ask you about?” Mike said as he tightened the sock rope.

“She...” Chris closed his eyes in concentration.

“Look at me,” Mike said sternly.

“I can’t do that and concentrate at the same time, Mike,” Chris said, because it was the truth.

“You don’t get a bad feeling from when I did this the last time with a gun as my side kick?”

“No...” Chris smiled. “I was never afraid of you,” he said.

“Oh...” Mike said and frowned. “You weren’t?”

“No. Sorry. I think I was turned on because you touched me in a way I can’t recall ever being touched.”

“And you still don’t think you’re even a little bit gay?” Mike laughed.

“No... I mean... maybe,” Chris bit his lip and looked at Mike. “Do you want to know what she said or what?”

“Not really, I just want to know if she got hot and bothered by it.”

“I didn’t ask,” Chris shrugged and looked slyly. “But her boyfriend seemed quite interested.”

“Her...?” Mike said and whistled. The knot was perfect and he let his fingers travel down Chris’ arms making him shudder. “He’s just her beard. He’s gay and her friend like you are, and he’s there to keep her from getting bothered by all the Berbarian guys out there.”

“Man... I fell for it. That dude totally checked me out when she went for the ladies’ room.”

Mike leaned down and kissed Chris soundly on the mouth. “You’re such a bad liar. He is her boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Chris was positively surprised. “How could you tell?”

“Magic. Now back to the topic. What did she ask?”

Chris slowly nodded. “Right, she wanted to know how I met you, and yes, I’m a bad liar because I didn’t want to say anything and keep this...” Chris pointed between them, “to myself because it’s precious, but she clearly expected me to have the whole story ready for her to munch on.”

“Did you try and give her some details?”

“I tried to give her some fake ones, but I don't go anywhere so she didn’t buy my pathetic story of meeting you in the gym.”

“Because you don’t go to the gym?”

“Yeah. If I did go to the gym, I would have told her ages ago. So I escaped to the toilet. She could tell I was white as a sheet and got worried.”

“And then you called and then I called. And when you came back...?” Mike asked.

“I told her what you said. It was interesting and just what she was looking for so she bought it.”

“Must have been the sheer shock of all the action you’re getting that she wasn’t aware of,” Mike chuckled and kissed him again. “How exactly did you phrase it?”

“Your instructions?”

“Yes, Chris,” Mike said exasperated. 

“It went like this,” Chris began and Mike’s pupils dilated so fast Chris’ breath hitched with desire. “You’re so... so fucking sexy,” he moaned.

The fine lines in the corner of Mike’s eyes showed when he smiled. “Did you say that to her?”

“No... I’m telling you. Now,” Chris said back. “I told her that we do the dirty every time you’re coming over, and that I always black out from what you do to my body.”

Mike’s mouth stood open and his tongue skirted across his lower lip. “Wow. Nice. Her brain must have checked out from the mental images that brought on.”

“It did. Her boyfriend had to tell her she was drooling.”

“What’s this boyfriend’s name?”

“Wayne... I think, or Wayne or Ryan maybe. Lane... It was Lane.”

“Some surfer type?”

“Why?”

“She just seemed like she’d go for a surfer type.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah. He was pretty tanned... just like you are,” he added.

“Got lots of sun by the lake.”

“I used to sunbathe there. Weren’t there anybody who saw you?”

“No. Nobody came around that week. I was all naked.”

Letting that thought hanging, Chris allowed himself to imagine what that looked like. Mike smirked slowly and Chris smiled back.

“I suppose that’s why you have no tan lines,” Chris said. Mike nodded and pulled off his top.

Chris and licked his lips. “So tanned...” he said dreamily and exhaled.

“Did you get hard from telling Paige about the fantasy sex we haven’t had?”

“Yeah... I did. Did you get hard telling me to say it?”

“Yeah. So bloody fucking hard, Chris,” Mike said. “I almost jerked off.” 

“Yeah?” Chris wanted to hear again, almost whining in his excitement.

“Yeah. Imagined letting you watch and then you’d turn over and let me come all over your sexy little fucking perfect arse.”

“Oh, yes,” Chris gasped and had to press his hand against his hard on because it was throbbing so much.

Moving down Chris’ body, Mike opened his belt, the zipper, the button, and pulled off his pants. “Are you fond of this?” he asked Chris pointing at his t-shirt.

Chris shook his head and Mike ripped it open in the front. Chris’ hard cock was bobbing as it lay curved to the side.

Mike got rid of the rest of his clothes and slivered down between Chris’ legs that parted immediately to accommodate him. Mike wrapped his hands under Chris’ thighs, curled on his hips to keep him steady and, with a pleasurable growl, his mouth slipped down his cock.

“Uh, Mike!” Chris moaned. The feeling, the heat, the anticipation, the visual of seeing Mike working his cock with his mouth was sensory overload. His skin was hypersensitive already. He wanted to touch Mike’s head, feeling the motions but his hands were tied. “OH...” he cried out. He would come any second now.

Mike just tightened the suction with those clever lips. His mouth was pulling the skin on Chris’ cock hard, and then climax hit him and his brain checked out for a few seconds.

Mike smirked seeing the utter bliss on Chris’ face as he spaced out on endorphins. He moved up to sit on his lover’s stomach. Leaning forward he used his cock to paint lines of precome on Chris’ lips.

“Stick your tongue out,” Mike said and Chris did.

“Mmm,” Chris said groggily and retracted his tongue. “What’s that?”

“Me,” Mike said. “This is the time when you know if you want to reciprocate or not.”

“You mean... suck you off?”

“Yeah.”

“Right now?”

“No. Just in general.”

“I’m pretty sure I want to do something to you,” Chris smiled. 

Mike smiled back and kneaded his boyish curls. “Watch me then.” Mike untied him and Chris was grateful to get his hands back. Mike got out of the bed and undressed. Moments later, he was back on his knees in front of Chris and grabbed onto his hard cock. Unhurriedly he jacked the hard flesh and concentrated on the feeling and how Chris’ brown eyes got huge.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s... I don’t know. I’ve never had this thought process before.”

“Ever?” Mike asked.

Chris wetted his dry lips, and then he surged forward and licked the string of precome that oozed from Mike’s slit.

Mike hitched on an inhale of breath. He worked his cock with his palm, his thumb. The foreskin was glistening as it moved effortlessly over the glans. Mike moved further down and lowered himself and grabbed Chris’ cock. “Clean?”

“What... like?”

“I mean as any STDs?”

“Oh... no. I’m good. Nothing down there,” Chris said and coughed. “You?”

Mike hesitated. He didn’t actually know if those guys he woke up in bed with had used the condoms he found on the floor, so he shook his head.

“I need to get tested.”

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“Okay. We’ll do felching another time.”

“What’s that?”

“Your cock slipping under my foreskin. It’s like shagging in a smaller scale.”

“Whoa...” Chris frowned. He could not actually envision that but he wanted to try it some time, nevertheless.

Mike was still jacking off, and he was getting into the zone in a few seconds. His hand ran over Chris’ stomach, his thighs, and his balls.

“Turn around on your stomach and lift your bum,” he ordered Chris who did it.

“Shit, it’s so pretty,” Mike moaned at the sight of Chris’ raised buttocks. He could watch that on repeat without getting bored. He pressed his mouth into the valley of the mounds and straightened up as he started coming. Semen hit Chris’ skin in generous splatters, and Mike bit his lower lip by how beautiful Chris was in that moment.

Pressing his forehead to Chris’ spine, he licked up the goo and laughed when Chris wriggled underneath him.

“You’re so weird,” Chris laughed and turned around in Mike’s grasp.

“Yeah. All the things I want to do to you when I can,” Mike said longingly.

“Yeah,” Chris agreed. “Let’s sleep.”

 

~•§•~


	5. Chapter 5

~•§•~

 

Monday came too soon, and even though they’d talked about it the entire weekend, Chris was still nervous he wouldn’t remember everything. It wasn’t as if he was supposed to do a lot of acting, but the pressure of performing convincingly was harder than when he planned the robbery the week before.

“Just look faint and go home,” Mike had said. It was that simple, but it stressed him out.

When he arrived at the bank, Chris was probably having an anxiety attack, but he forced himself to get out of his car, lock it, and get inside the bank.

“You don’t look too hot, Chris,” was the first thing Paige said. “Still feeling under the weather?”

“I’m... I don't feel so well,” Chris said and his hands were shaking.

“Chris, you’re not fit to work today,” Paige said worried.

“I’m seeing my therapist as soon as I can get in touch with her.”

“You call her right now,” Paige said and practically dragged him over to the table in their lunch room. “Use my phone.”

“I can use my own phone,” Chris hissed. His brain was a tumble of thoughts, sentences, feelings, and he needed Mike to tell him what to do. “I can... here. Dial for me, I can’t think straight.”

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“I... need. I ...” Chris pressed the heel of his hands into his eye sockets.

“What’s her name?”

“Janet...” Chris said and hoped Paige was smart enough to figure out the rest.

“Got it,” Paige said and handed over the phone to Chris.

“Janet? It’s Chris Pratt. I’m not in a great place right now.”

_“Come over right away. Do you have someone to drive for you?”_

Chris looked at Paige. “Can you drive me?”

“Yes. The old prick will just have to manage today.”

“I’ll be there,” Chris croaked.

_“And I’ll be here.”_

Chris disconnected and sat trying to sort his thoughts but he really was in a bad place. When Paige came out to get him, he just let her lead him to her car and they drove away. He didn’t recall if Berbarian and Solano had protested. He barely remembered what happened in between he saw Janet and being home again.

 

~•§•~

 

“Want me to take you inside?” Paige asked and Chris nodded handing over his keys like a child.

“Chris!” a happy voice greeted Paige when she let herself into Chris’ home. 

“The elusive boyfriend,” she mumbled.

“What’s happened...?” the guy asked hesitatingly.

Paige looked at a complete stranger and she was blown away by his stunning good looks. She’d never seen blue eyes like his or blond lashes so long they were clearly wasted on a guy... but Chris was probably happy being on the receiving end of his charms. She shook her mental thoughts of Chris’ sex life out of her mind. “He got a panic attack at work. I took him to his therapist. He’s going to lay low for a while.”

“What ‘appened...?” the guy asked again and only then did she notice the British accent. How charming.

“Have you been here all weekend?” she asked, because she couldn’t help herself.

“Do you mind?” the guy asked, looking genuinely appalled.

“Just looking after my friend,” Paige replied with a warning tone that brought a sparkle into the guy’s eyes.

“Well, kindly spare me the BFF over my dead body crap!” was the instant reply, and Paige had to admit she was actually building up to burst into that rather banal and unoriginal rant.

“I happen to be defensive about Chris. I don't know what he’s told you, because Chris is unpredictable when he’s turned on, so...” the guy said and opened his arms in a ‘what you’re gonna do about that?’ gesture. “And what about me?” he continued. “What if Chris hurts me? Are you just as protective towards those he hurts as well?”

Paige didn’t answer that.

“Didn’t think so, so pull you kitty claws back.”

Paige looked speechless and even more perplexed when Chris came over and hugged the guy affectionately even if he didn’t hug back right away. His tempestuous eyes were still sending daggers her way. There was something about those eyes that made her hesitate. She seriously didn’t know this person, but still there was something unsettling about him the more she looked.

The boyfriend looked down at Chris and enfolded him protectively in his arms. “Weren’t you busy getting home? Thanks a ton for being there for him, but... I can take it from here,” he said.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Uuuhh... Barry Redfern,” he snapped and turned Chris to make him move toward the stairs.

Paige didn’t know anyone called Barry Redfern and her sixth sense told her not to trust Chris’ boyfriend. “Maybe I should call his parents?”

The guy literally rolled his eyes and then he grabbed Chris’ hand. “Who the fuck appointed you his bloody fucking guardian? Do you want what’s her name to call your parents?” he asked Chris who looked like he had a really hard time following the conversation around him.

Chris stood undecidedly for several moments.

“No. He doesn’t need more people involved. Now would you please go?” the guy said and his eyes turned darker, threatening even.

“I’m calling 911,” Paige said and the reaction was prompt.

The guy came toward her and stuck his face right into hers. “If you do that, he’ll be institutionalised because you can’t keep your bloody pocket diagnosis to yourself. Fuck. Off!”

“But he’s not well!”

“What he needs is me. So, I’m sorry if your little ego can’t handle that you’re superfluous.”

Chris came over and looked imploringly at her. “Please, Paige. I’m grateful you took me to see Janet, but I really just need to sleep. Good night.”

“Fine. But I’ll call you tomorrow.” She looked at Barry with all the hate she could muster, and of course he wasn’t impressed.

Chris put up his hands to try and keep things cool between her and his boyfriend. “It’s really not necessary. I’ll call Janet if I need her. I need to unwind from all the ruckus.”

“Okay... okay. Call me if...”

“Goodbye, we get it,” the guy interrupted her when she picked up the same phrasing again. “... and close the door after you unless you’re the kinky type.”

“What the hell?” Paige said. Was that British hooligan going to molest Chris in this state? Well, according to the giggles she heard when they reached the landing, Chris was clearly looking forward to it. It didn’t make her trust the guy further more. It had to be the drugs talking. Chris was sedated. That must be why he was loopy.

She was already nearing the staircase when she heard the tell tale sounds of two people making out heavily. To her surprise, Chris was a vocal lover. However, under the circumstances she did not want to overhear them going at it and left the house.

 

~•§•~

 

“Is she gone?” Chris gasped.

“Yes.... fucking finally!” Mike ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Jesus Christ, I know she’s your friend but there was seriously no stop button on that girl!” Mike inhaled deeply, positively aware that he had been millimetres from punching her in the face just to make her fucking stop her ‘Save Chris’ crusade. “I think she just doesn’t like the idea that you’re actually a grown man who’s not attracted to pussy. It threatens her because she’s not in control of your dick.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Chris objected.

“She’s in love with you... or at least she wants to shag you. So she’s pissed at me pussy blocking her... and just us doing the dirty,” Mike joked.

“She’s not in love with me. I would have sensed that...”

“Fine. I don’t really want this argument, do you?”

“No, gods, no,” Chris sighed tiredly and closed his eyes. “Still, I actually did panic today,” he said, changing the subject back to him.

“And had to see Janet. I’m sure she would have been able to tell if you faked it. You’re not that good.”

“But I was so fucking good!” Chris said and smiled.

“Yeah. You were brilliant in being sick for real and faking it.”

“And now I’m on leave. It’s a relief, Mike. I’m not who I was last week. Or... any other time in my life as far as I remember it.”

“You’re the boy I wanted to get close to in school but couldn’t because I’d be bullied if I told anyone I was gay.”

“Me?” Chris said and smiled drowsily.

“Yeah. You’re my type so much I almost hurt thinking I never would have met you, if I hadn’t had such a shitty past... well recently.” Mike smiled and chuckled a bit embarrassed. But he was falling so badly right now and pulled Chris closer just to feel him.

“I just need to lay low, Mike,” Chris whispered and sought closer to Mike’s warmth, too.

“She’s dangerous, Chris, and she’s on to me...” Mike then said.

Chris’ eyes popped open.

“What do you mean?” Chris looked at him, worried what his words implied. Mike met his eyes.

“That she’s dangerous and we have to be very careful she doesn’t figure out that I was in the bank. I could tell she was checking me out, looking at me in that special way.”

“Maybe she just likes you?” Chris suggested.

“Don't be daft. She’d rather vomit all over me than touch me with a stick,” Mike said, and yes, Chris did know.

“But...?” Chris’ mind stopped because how could he possibly sequence what Mike was thinking about? “You’re not... _actually_ going to hurt her?”

“No. Of course not,” Mike said and hugged Chris reassuringly. 

Chris fell asleep but Mike wasn’t tired. His mind was somewhere else as his hand absentmindedly caressed Chris’ dark curls.

 

~•§•~

 

Tuesday, they did as planned and went to Pineville and bought Mike a suit. At the same time, they applied for a renewal of Chris’ passport and a visa for England. So far so good. 

On their way home they picked up some Indian takeout. 

“How long would it take for the passport to be renewed?” Mike asked.

“About two weeks.”

“And for the visa to come through?” Mike asked again.

“Three weeks,” Chris said.

“Too fucking long. I think I got mine in two.” Mike got up and put on his suit.

“You look great,” Chris said.

“Only great? I could replace a Gaultier model any time,” Mike said and went to stand in front of Chris.

“What?” Chris asked and chuckled when Mike turned slowly.

“Check out this arse,” Mike said and swayed his hips.

Chris did. Mike had a really nice round ass.

“You should put on your suit, too.”

Chris went and did it and they stood together in front of the mirror. Smoothing his hair back, Chris thought the both of them managed to come across as young successful businessmen. Maybe... if Mike got his degree, they could literally go into business together. By now, Chris knew a lot about money. It wouldn’t be an impossible plan.

 

~•§•~

 

Patiently, the couple waited for their documents to arrive and kept Chris at home for as long as they could get away with. 

With Mike’s visa already in hand and only a few days left for Chris’ passport to arrive, Chris had to go back to work and maintain a normal appearance. Everything was fine and back to normal after a traumatic experience.

Paige smiled at him, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Things were different after she knew about Mike’s place in Chris’ life.

“Everything good, Christopher?”

“Yah, I’m fine, really,” Chris assured a lot of people during the day. People were still talking about the robbery, but clearly the topic reached new heights of interest after Chris returned.

The pattern continued all during the week, and Chris was desperate for the damn passport to arrive.

“You’re quite the hero,” Paige said, but her facial expression revealed she didn’t mean it.

“I don't want to be,” Chris said, “I just want to go back to work. I’m getting anxious repeating myself all day.” He was, he just hadn’t told Mike about it.

“We repeat many things... during our day,” Paige said.

“Yes, but those are not personally directed at me.”

“Soon enough, you’ll be old news again. It’s like people needs a celebrity somehow.”

Chris looked over at her and couldn’t quite believe she was saying that. Luckily, he was interrupted by a customer.

“Hallo, how may I help you?”

“Good heavens, you’re back,” the lady in front of him said.

Wow, it was none other than Mrs. Abby Walters. Chris didn’t know her personally, but these days, everybody seemed to ‘know’ Chris. Not just Chris from the accident, but this Chris: The guy who was held up in the bank.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Chris gave her the spiel he’d delivered to everyone. 

“All that money. I heard you weren’t insured,” Mrs. Walters said.

 _What a gossiping bitch,_ Chris thought, but politely, he replied, “That’s not true. None of our customers lost their money. They’re all safe.”

“But the bank,” Mrs. Walters pushed on.

Suddenly, Mr. Berbarian stood behind Chris, and tapped his shoulder. Chris knew the man wanted to take over, and he was more than welcome. 

He didn't feel so good. He’d been fine all week, but this felt different. Chris’ hands were shaking as he went to the restroom. “Fuck...” he muttered lowly. What a fucked up week. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better and people would stop talking about it. The bank had renegotiated their insurance. Now, it was even more expensive because of the missing security cameras. They had finally been installed while Chris was absent. The magnitude of his deed, the fact he got away with it, and that even due to his condition, was almost too much. 

Chris didn’t remember he blacked out. He only came around when he heard Paige’s voice calling him back to conscience.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Did you come back too soon?”

“Probably,” he answered slowly, because it probably was. He just didn’t know if he simply couldn’t handle the pressure of having taken the money. His conscience was nagging at him as he slowly realised he’d regretted taking them. He wished Mike had never dropped the note and that Chris would have been clueless right up until the Brit came to rob the bank.

“I-I need to go home.”

“Let me drive you. I’ll tell the others you had to leave,” Paige said. She looked so expressionless, and Chris thought that maybe this was the last draw. She had grown tired of always helping the clumsy clueless fool.

 

~•§•~

 

“Hey, Chris. That was early,” Mike said with a huge smile that slowly dissipated. “What happened?” he said, when he saw Chris’ face.

“I passed out in the restroom. Paige drove me home.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” he immediately asked letting his eyes roam over Chris’ body.

“No. I just... I can’t remember much, but luckily Paige found me. It would have been embarrassing if it had been one of the others.”

“Okay. Well, you got mail,” Mike said and went to fetch the envelope.

“Passport?”

“Feels heavy enough,” Mike replied and tossed it at Chris.

Opening the envelope, Chris nodded and unfolded the little book to look at it. “Looks good.”

Mike came close to have a look as well. “Looks very good.” Seeking eye contact they both sighed in relief and shared a kiss. They could get out now. “We should buy plane tickets right away. See how soon we can leave.”

“Yes. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

There were no tickets immediately which would have been too fantastic, but they were able to get a flight Friday evening.

As soon as tickets were booked, they checked their luggage was still packed. Chris had brought his affairs in order and involved his mother to handle the house ‘during Chris’ vacation’. All they could do now was wait.

“You’re still going to work tomorrow?”

“I should, but I don't think I can take it anymore,” Chris said.

“Did Paige ask any questions regarding if you show for work?” Mike asked. 

“She said very little in the car,” Chris said.

“This is too easy,” Mike said and bodily shuddered. He really hated the waiting, but there hadn’t been any tickets sooner. “I’m making our tea. This creeps me out.”

Chris followed him into the kitchen and they hugged for a while. The weeks hadn’t been easy for any of them. Sure, Mike was clean, but he experienced flashes of pseudo withdrawals on top of missing the highs and feeling drawn to substances. The itch was lessening, but he was afraid of the temptation that was nothing but hell.

In the morning, Chris called in sick and Paige responded to his call.

“We’ll just have to manage without you. You just concentrate on getting better, Chris. You know that’s what’s important.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Paige.” 

He was about to hang up when she said, “So is your boyfriend going to there for moral support?”

Chris didn’t answer. He looked ahead of him, not knowing what to answer that wouldn’t somehow incriminate him. He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally answered, “Um... I haven’t really thought about that.”

“All right. Hey, how about a double date this weekend if you’re up to it?” she asked as if nothing odd had just occurred. 

Again, Chris couldn’t figure out what to answer and simply put down his phone and let it lie there on the table. Going upstairs, he just waited in the corridor. Looking into the open bedroom, he watched Mike sleeping on his stomach in the middle of the bed. Chris smiled lovingly. Then he went back downstairs and picked up the phone. Paige was not on the line anymore. 

But there was a message.

 

~•§•~

 

“Chris?” Mike asked and scrambled out of bed. Scratching his stomach he sauntered downstairs and found Chris sitting by the kitchen table. He was nibbling at a piece of toast. “Good morning,” he said and kissed Chris’ head.

“Morning,” Chris responded and smiled at him. Mike smiled back and bent to kiss him.

“Can’t wait, man. It’s finally time to go home,” Mike said and caressed Chris’ hair in his hands. Looking up, Chris’ eyes met Mike’s and the thrill that they were going to live together in London ran through Mike’s body. 

“Yeah, it’s finally time,” Chris agreed and got up “Do you want some coffee?”

“Yeah. Just a small one. I’m edgy enough as it is.” Chris came back with a cup for him.

“I’ve already had too much coffee.”

“You called work?” Mike asked.

“Of course. It was no problem. Feels like it never was. I think they’re going to fire me.”

Mike frowned. “Well thank god that’s not gonna be a problem now.”

Chris dropped the toast on his plate and watched as Mike made himself breakfast.

“You’re all right?” Mike asked as he came and sat next to Chris.

“Yeah. Everything is all right now.”

“Good,” Mike chuckled.

As soon as Mike was done with breakfast, they put on their suits. Finally the travel towards their flight out of Missouri had begun. 

 

~•§•~

 

“You need something before check in?” Mike asked. Chris had been quiet on the ride, and Mike had respected his silence.

“No. I’m good,” Chris replied and sent him a small tight smile while they stood waiting in the small queue in front of a check in machine. Mike shrugged and stepped forward when it became his turn.

“Which seats?”

“What?” Chris asked. 

“Window or?” Mike elaborated.

“You take the window,” Chris said and stepped to the side.

“What is it?” Mike asked, as he grabbed the stickers and boarding card the machine printed for him.

“I’m not going with you,” Chris finally said.

“What the hell?” Mike asked, his heart plummeted as his pulse quickened.

Aware of the people around them waiting for their turn, Mike quickly pulled Chris further aside for privacy. “What brought that on?”

“This...” Chris reluctantly showed him a text message.

_I know you took the money. You told me yesterday when you were out of it._

It was from Paige.

“What a cunt...” Mike said. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Didn’t want to stop you. You need to go home, Mike.”

“Well obviously, but I need you to come with me more.”

“This is not your problem,” Chris insisted. “Go.”

“You could go to jail, darling,” Mike whispered worried.

“I know. But she doesn’t know how much of the money I have.”

“Chris... Is she threatening you?”

“Fucking go, Mike! Don’t miss your boarding.”

Mike’s brain was a mess. White noise, frankly. He looked at Chris but couldn’t see the confused young man he’d just met weeks before. Before him stood a very attractive, business clad man who looked the part. “What are you planning?”

“Don't ask. Just go.”

“Jesus, Chris...” Mike gave him a quick hug. “This was not supposed to happen.”

“I know but it did. I have to deal with it.” Before Mike could add anything, Chris turned around and left him standing there.

Mike followed him with his eyes, but Chris didn’t look back. 

The suitcase in his hand felt heavy and, zombie like, he went to have it checked in. When the formalities were done, time stood still until he watched the bag slowly disappear on the conveyor to eventually be taken to the plane with everybody else’s luggage. He wondered how many other passengers also had suspect things they were taking out of the country. Mike didn’t know if he would even succeed getting through customs. He didn’t look suspicious so he hoped he would just for once be lucky.

Mike deliberately didn’t think about Chris. He would not stay in the US and let Chris’ sacrifice be in vain. That was easy to say, but Mike’s heart wasn’t listening. He felt people staring at him discreetly while he went through the clearing process prior to the boarding access, and he realised his cheeks were wet. Well, fuck them. He would board in less than thirty minutes, and he could succumb to his sadness on the flight over. It was only once Mike sat in his seat by the window that he realised he didn’t know what had happened to the gun.

 

~•§•~

 

Taking a deep breath, Mike played it cool when he collected his luggage at Heathrow. There were several other men looking like him, dressed in a smart suit, carry on bag over their shoulder or arm, as well as dragging a wheeled suitcase behind them. He tried to subtly mingle with some of the men and look like he belonged with them as to not stick out from the crowd. He didn’t have anything to declare and kept to that aisle, focusing on the moment where he could step into Terminal 3’s entry hall and vanish out of the airport entirely. He was very careful about not looking at people and come across as nervous or otherwise on the edge about something. He needed to look like he had absolutely nothing to worry about to not be pulled over as asked to reveal the contents of his suitcase. But no one approached him as he strode in the vicinity of the other businessmen, and finally he got out of the airport without any incident. Relieved, he got into a cab and was taken to a hotel. 

Locking the door to his room, he looked around and took in everything. A bed, a small side table. A table with a chair, dresser, and a closet with a small safe in the bottom. There was a small fridge as well, and Mike was sure it would contain alcohol. He wasn’t tempted by it but he wasn’t happy knowing he could just take one and drink it. Wanting to put the money in the safe, Mike picked a combination and checked it worked before he put the money in it. He would have to exchange the notes a stack at the time. It was still too early in the day for Forex to open for business, so he decided to go downstairs and have some breakfast since the hotel was still serving. He removed the alcohol bottles from the fridge and brought them with him to the reception.

“I’d rather not have these in my room, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, sir. Can we bring you something else?” the clerk asked.

“No, I’ll manage, thanks.” Mike nodded towards the restaurant, “But I would like some breakfast.”

“Certainly. We’re still serving for another half hour. Here is your ticket. Would you like me to add your meal to your bill?”

Mike took a few seconds to figure out if he wanted that. “Uh... yes, please. Why not?”

After the clerk made a note of that on his ticket, Mike went to the person in charge in the restaurant.

Shortly after, he stood in front of a buffet with traditional English breakfast. Mike came to realise how much he missed home, missed England, and especially his parents whom he hadn’t been in contact with for too long. In a way, it was daunting knowing he would have to pay them a visit. However, on the other hand, they didn’t know what had happened to him after he stopped calling. So it was kind of a clean slate no matter what he told them.

Stacking his plate with food, Mike came back to his table and looked out of the window. The restaurant was in street view and he watched regular people walking by. How he wished Chris was sitting in front of him joining him, but he had to postpone these feelings. He didn’t know what was happening back in Noel and how Chris was going to handle the situation with Paige. Mike hated that bitch and the fact she had come between him and Chris. And that she was trying to weasel her way in to get some of the money while she was at it.

She was lucky Mike hadn’t been there in the same room with her, because he probably would have done her bodily harm.

As soon as he was done with his meal, Mike left the hotel to figure out some practical things. Ironically, he might have to put the money in a bank safety deposit box. He was also going to find a cheap place to stay and generally keep his nose down and not look like he had money. It mattered little if nobody was looking for him or even knew he was back in the country. He was still a bit paranoid after having experienced Sid and his methods. So just in case, he was still being careful. What he really wanted to do was call Chris, but Chris hadn’t called him, so he assumed keeping the low profile was still their approach. Perhaps in a few days it would be safe to call him and figure out how their circumstances were developing. Until then, Mike would make the most of it because he was the one with the advantage. 

After spending a few nights in the student’s hotel, Mike managed to find a small room for rent at some old git’s house and paid three months rent in advance. Then he found a crappy job in a supermarket to support the cheap lifestyle he had to pretend he was living. At least until he got a better job or hopefully began studying again. At the same time, he began exchanging his dollars to pounds in various Forexes all over London. 

Chris still hadn’t called and Mike didn't call Chris. That didn’t stop him from worrying every day that passed without any of them picking up the phone.

Mike was doing much better. The random itch to get high had lessened. His thoughts tried to tempt him, but it was amazing how easy it was to just not give in to it. He kept remembering it wasn’t a life; it was death on hold if he ever gave into it again. And when Chris came over to live with him, the last thing he wanted was a relapse.

After a while, Mike applied for a couple of small colleges as soon as he knew which to choose from. He hadn’t contacted his parents yet, either. Knowing his mum, she would ask him to come home, and that was the last thing he wanted. Crossing his fingers, he hoped he would be accepted for the January semester having already covered some basic ground i the US.

After a month, Mike still hadn’t heard anything from Chris and he still didn’t feel safe trying to contact him. He might unintentionally put him in danger, but at the same time the dream they had built began to blur. The idea of Chris being in London with him began to disappear no matter how hard Mike tried to hold on to it.

He received a letter from one of the schools asking him to come for an interview. Mike felt strange. Suddenly, he was getting places even if it was just a preliminary interview that didn't guarantee anything. The interview was taking place Friday.

 

~•§•~

 

When Chris returned to his house after saying goodbye to a devastated Mike, he felt probably even more distraught. He couldn't believe Paige would do such a thing. Never in a million years had he thought she could be like that, but then she probably hadn’t thought he could either. Dropping his overnight bag next to the coffer with money he dropped down on the couch and tried to sort out his thoughts. He was so mad. Mad at Paige and mad at himself and his fucking tiresome condition that somehow had made him careless. Or maybe Paige was just too sharp reading his body language no matter how he’d handled all this. 

Imagine that he’d blabbered all his secrets to her; trusting her. Chris bent forwards and screamed in to his knees just to let off steam. 

Would the cops show up soon? Chris had no idea what to expect, so he did nothing and went to bed.

Mike didn’t call him, so Chris didn’t call Mike. He didn’t think that Mike didn’t want to call him. Still, the uncertainty of what exactly would happen next made them silently agree not to get in contact with each other. Chris might hurt Mike if he did and vice versa. That didn't mean he didn’t miss him, and he knew Mike missed him back. How could it hurt being apart so much if that wasn’t the case? Believing in that was what kept him going.

 

~•§•~


	6. Chapter 6

~•§•~

 

The police never showed up, so something was obviously off with Paige. There had to be angle in there somewhere he could exploit, so the following Monday Chris decided to go to work and see if it changed anything. He felt clear minded in a different way and when he saw Paige, he ignored her. They both pretended that nothing had happened, but he knew something would happen. It was just a question of when.

Two weeks past with them circling each other putting on niceties none of them meant. 

Eventually one afternoon, where they were left to tally the tills, Paige came forward with her demands.

“I want half of what you’ve got. I get that your boyfriend probably got a share, too. But of what you’ve got, I want half of it.”

Chris didn’t say anything at first but continued to tally. He’d been thinking about this moment ever since. Calculating, sequencing, and he was ready. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re referring to the dinner party, then of course, Paige. You’re very welcome to come to my address tonight.”

“No... not your place.”

“Then, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until next time. And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Finally, Paige realised Chris wasn’t going to admit to anything inside the bank. Chris couldn’t be sure if the new surveillance cameras were able to pick up sound. He had to be very careful.

“Fine. Tonight. Your place,” Paige agreed.

When they were done and they’d closed the bank, they went outside to finish their talk. Chris didn’t clean the bank any more. With all the days he’d been away, someone else had been hired to do the job. Well, he didn’t need that extra money anymore, and Mr. Solano had been lenient as usual concerning his many sick days.

“You have no proof other than what I told you. You have no leverage.”

“I might have a recording of you admitting the crime,” she said.

“Then you would have showed me, wouldn’t you?” Chris shot back at her. By the look in her eyes, he could tell she had no recording to prove any of it. “I didn’t do it, Paige. Whatever you claim I told you, would have been said in a state of delirium. You could just as easily have fabricated everything.”

“Then why do you look so guilty?” Paige asked.

“Maybe I’ve thought about what it would be like to have that kind of it after it happened. Who hasn’t thought about it?”

“Really, Chris? Is that your best shot?”

“You’re the one trying to rob me, Paige,” Chris said and sent her his best disappointed look. When she looked away, he knew he’d gotten to her in a small way.

“Where did your boyfriend disappear to?” she said, changing the subject somewhat.

“I don’t have a boyfriend any longer,” Chris said. Then he left her standing as he went to his car.

“I’m still coming over.”

“There is nothing to talk about!” Chris said exasperatedly.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“It’s called harassment.”

“I’ll go with denial.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes following him as he drove away.

 

~•§•~

 

Chris was back in the airport. His bags were packed and his Visa to England still valid. He didn't recall much from when he left the house and until he stood checking in. Getting through security was also pretty simple. Chris had no clue what to expect but he wasn’t so intimidated. Everything he needed to do came in a logical sequence. Besides, he just followed the lead of the people in front of him all the way, until he was sat his Gate, waiting to board the plane. 

Also, he’d wasted a lot of time just making time pass wondering what Paige would do, instead of just leave Noel and go live with Mike. She never had any proof. She was just terrifying him by insinuating that she had something substantial on him; claiming she knew he’d taken the money. Well... that wasn’t his problem any longer.

Chuckling, Chris just remembered something. How he’d been worried that Mike would hurt her. Instead, he’d turned the tables around. His smile disappeared. That’s when he didn’t remember what happened. 

But he hadn’t forgotten that he’d bought bullets - or that he’d put them into the gun and now... he wasn’t sure what had happened in between that and when he got to the airport. At least he knew he wasn’t bringing the gun. But he also couldn’t remember where he put the gun and why he should even be concerned about that. He purchased the bullets, when he and Mike were busy getting ready for the trip to Europe. As protection, of course. He just chose not to tell Mike about it because the gun never actually belonged to Brit. Mike himself had taken it from someone else... as protection and as a means to get the money. That’s how it worked. You took the gun to protect yourself until someone else took it – like an eternal hand me down. Well, that was kind of funny depending on the state of mind of the one currently keeping it. 

The boarding call was announced interrupting Chris’ thoughts. Getting on his feet, he followed the line of people who slowly stepped into the plane to be seated. Tomorrow he would be in London and hopefully, he’d be able to find Mike. If not – he’d have plenty of money to make it somehow or another on his own. 

 

~•§•~

 

Sighing, Mike dropped down on a chair and tucked into his sandwiches. Lunch break and he was so ready to quit. And leave. He was ready to quit everyday because his co-workers were morons with nothing on their minds but getting laid and party during the weekends. 

“Micky? Wanna come along tomorrow night?” 

“No. Can’t,” was Mike’s standard answer. Besides, due to the interview, he had tomorrow off. The two eighteen year olds he worked shifts with assumed Mike had similar needs and constantly asked him to tag along on their night outs. He couldn’t figure out why they bothered because he always declined. Maybe because he was older than them? Perhaps they were even looking up to him for whatever reason. He tried not to seem hostile, but he really felt like wringing their stupid necks on a daily basis. 

“What are your plans? Hot date? You’ve got some bird at home you forgot to tell us about? Got any pictures?” Simon asked already leering hopefully. He was a beanstalk tall skinny bloke with turquoise dyed spiky hair. Seventies’ retro clad in every detail down to his spray painted Dr. Martens and black and red chequered plaid pants. 

Mike sent him a dirty look. Just because he was holding his phone it didn’t mean he would share anything with these brain dead cunts. His violent feelings came as a surprise. Dealing with the remnants of his addiction was one thing, but that his previous callous lifestyle kept surfacing was another. He didn’t like being like that. He didn’t used to be short-tempered and mean, and he struggled to keep it out of his behaviour towards these young people who had no clue. “No hot date.”

“I’m going to the club and cop off with anyone who offers,” Gary the-most-normal-of-the-two said, and the usual ‘who’s the most bad arse womaniser’ game had started. 

“Even blokes?” Simon cackled, earning a sour cuff on the arm from Gary before they started a scuffle on the floor.

Mike ignored them and literally dropped his food when his phone vibrated. 

_Mike?_

_You there?_

“Bloody fucking hell,” Mike muttered staring at the screen in disbelief. It was Chris.

Quickly, he called him as his heart was beating so fast it made his hands shake too much to text message him back. He got up to be able to hear his voice and went outside the back of the store.

 _“Mike?”_ he heard Chris say.

“Chris! What... where...”

_“I’m in London!”_

“You’re what?”

_“I’m in London, Mike.”_

“That’s incredible! You’re all right? Everything went all right?”

_Everything went well. I mean everything, you know?”_

Scratching his stubbles, Mike sighed. “Fucking great. Just awesome. Wow. That’s ...”

 _“Great. I know,”_ Chris chuckled. _“Can you get me? I feared I wouldn’t be able to find you.”_

“Not right now, but I’ll give you an address. Take a cab and be there in two hours. Then I’m off and I’ll see you then, all right?”

 _“All right,”_ Chris laughed. _“You sound even more British now.”_

“Probably. I’m so fucking chuffed you’re here, Chris.” Mike smiled softly. If anyone saw him, they’d know he was sweet on someone, and suddenly he didn’t mind.

 _“I pulled the trigger, Mike,”_ he heard Chris say next.

The words cut through his happy thoughts. “...you did what?” he asked after a measured pause.

 _“I pulled the trigger, Mike.”_

Shit, he did hear Chris say exactly that? Even though Chris wasn’t next to him, Mike looked around carefully to see if anyone was watching him having this conversation, but he was alone outside. 

“Don't say another word, all right? You don't know who might overhear this. Uhm... uhm...” _Think, Mike think!_ “Chris? Get that cab right away. I’ll make sure to be there when you arrive. Hanging up now.” Quickly, Mike texted his address to Chris and went back inside.

“Sorry. Family emergency. I’ve gotta go.”

“I knew there was some bird...”

Mike stuck his face up to Simon’s and hissed, “Shut your fucking mouth. You don't know anything about me, so quit guessing.” Getting his coat from his locker, Mike hurried out of the building to get home.

“Well, if you shared once in a while, I wouldn’t have to!” was the last thing he heard, before the door slammed behind him.

 

~•§•~

 

Chris wasn’t waiting outside yet, when Mike got home. Traffic had been crazy, and he swore he’d gotten home much faster if he’d just walked. When he reached his landing, he stood trying to get his breath back again after the surreal bike ride. He hoped nobody got hurt because he hadn’t stopped for red at any point. Eventually, he found his keys in his pocket and locked himself into the flat. 

Mike took a few steps forward and looked around. Everything looked the same. The furniture that came with the flat looked cheap and worn and yet oddly homely and ready for a roommate. Mike glanced at the bed. Chris would be sleeping there tonight. 

Going into the small kitchenette, Mike went to boil some water in the kettle on the gas stove. He liked that small pleasures took their time. Taking out some wheat bread, he made a couple of open sandwiches with ham, Cheddar cheese, and pickles. He had no idea if Chris liked them. In honesty, he couldn’t remember if his little sweetheart had enjoyed those back in Noel when he made them there.

His door phone rang and slowly, Mike went to answer it.

“Yes?” he said directed at the microphone. 

“It’s me,” he heard Chris say. Only then did Mike buzz the door open and waited with his head resting against the door until he heard steps indicating that Chris was coming up. It took him longer than expected, so Mike had to retreat to the kitchen to turn off the stove. Moving back to the door, he repositioned his head against the wooden slab as he waited for Chris’ steps to stop at his door. He, too, was stalling.

Finally, there were knocks on the door, and Mike opened.

“Did you kill her?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Chris whispered with a nervous smile.

“You’d better come in,” Mike said and let him in.

“Hi,” Chris said and looked uneasy.

Mike looked at him for a few moments. “Hi,” he responded with an unsure smile of his own. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned their reunion. 

Chris looked just as sweet and lovely as he had the last time he saw him. Running a hand over his dark curls, Mike drew him into his arms and relished in the fact that he was able to hold him at all. Pulling away slightly he inclined his head, and Chris met him halfway in a short hard kiss. Mike pulled him close again and deepened the kiss. Regrettably there were questions to be asked, and he let go of his love.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good. It’s been difficult.”

“Right. Chris...” Mike looked him straight in the eye and got to the point. “Where is the gun?”

Immediately, Chris looked away. “I can’t remember.”

Mike sighed. Not good. “All right. We’ll figure this out. Have you tried to go back and sequence what happened backwards?”

“No. I haven’t had time. It all happened so quickly.”

“What happened quickly?” Mike asked and literally took Chris’ head between his hands to make eye contact again. “I’m not mad at you, but this is fucking important.”

Chris’ eyes flickered. “Everything. I think the first thing I remember is being at the airport.”

Mike nodded. “All right. It’s probably the best starting point.” He noticed they were still standing by the door. “Drop your bags, Chris. Just leave them there.” Taking his hand, he pulled Chris along to the kitchen. “The loo is behind there, by the way,” he pointed, as they passed a door.

Once they were in the kitchenette, Chris’ eyes lit up at the sight of food. “I’m really hungry.”

“So am I. I was in the middle of my lunch break when I got your text.”

“Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can eat now.” He took two plates and arranged the food on them. Mike poured the hot water into a teapot before reaching for a tin of tea. He dropped some leaves in a teabag to strain in the pot. Lastly, he added two cups to the arrangement and brought everything to the table.

“If you need milk or sugar, help yourself.”

“I’m good,” Chris said and took the chair opposite of Mike.

“Welcome, darling,” Mike said and reached across to take one of Chris’ hands. “I missed you more than I thought I ever could.” 

Chris smiled back. “I missed you, too. I was beginning to worry if I ever saw you again. You never called.”

“Right. Sorry about that. Didn’t know if it was safe. You didn’t call either and time just... passed.”

“Yeah – it did.”

Mike wanted to sit and talk, have lunch, and not worry about the things that had happened in America. But they had to talk about it. It was festering and did crazy things to his head. “So... How did you get to the airport?” 

Chris took a bite and watched keenly how Mike poured him a cup of tea. “What kind of tea is it?”

“Focus, Christopher. It doesn’t matter what kind of tea it is.” 

Chris looked at Mike and frowned. “I drove. My own car.”

“Are you relapsing? Is that a thing with your condition?” Mike asked worriedly.

“No... I mean... I’ve experienced something traumatising and it causes a black out. You remember that, right?”

Mike nodded. Yes, unfortunately he did.

“I think it can happen to anyone. Not necessarily because of this condition.”

“You think, but you don’t know...” Mike said. He sounded like he was interrogating Chris. He promised himself he would make it up to him later.

Chris took another bite which made Mike remember to eat himself.

“So. You took your car and drove to the airport?”

“Yes.”

“That takes a while. Do you remember what you did while you were driving?”

“I was... I remember I stopped for something to eat at a gas stop.”

“Okay... good.” Mike nodded. “Do you remember getting into your car back home?”

“I think so. I remember putting my bags in the trunk,” Chris said and then he began to fiddle with invisible lint on the green table cloth.

“Was that the only thing you put in the trunk?” Mike asked, looking at Chris’ nervous behaviour.

“Yes. That was all.”

Mike closed his eyes in relief. Jesus. If Chris had put something else... like the gun or even Paige in the trunk he’d get a conniption.

“Okay. So far so good. Anything else happened while you got ready to leave?”

“I fired the gun.”

“I remember. I would just like for you to remember why you did it, Chris,” Mike said calmly and smiled reassuringly at his boyfriend.

Chris closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “I think I might have aimed it at Paige.”

“When was this?” Mike asked, feeling his voice shake from adrenaline.

“Before I left...” Chris said vaguely.

“But you’re not sure you aimed at Paige?”

“No. You see. She insisted on coming over to talk about the money. And I insisted I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“But she did come over?”

“I think so. I didn’t really check who was there when I opened the door.”

“Jesus. What the fucking hell, Chris!” Mike shouted and got up.

Chris slumped in his chair and looked nervously at Mike. “I’m so sorry, Mike. Do you think I killed her?”

Getting up, Mike went to stare out of the tiny kitchen window. The seconds ticked away but he needed to calm down. Right now, his brain was trying to explode or implode. Either would do. This wasn’t Chris’ fault alone. They were in this together. Mike left the country and Chris stood back with a serious problem he was ill equipped to deal with. They chose to solve things this way, but that still meant that Mike was included in solving this serious setback. 

“We could check the news back home?”

Mike closed his eyes. “Yeah. That’s... that’s probably a good idea.” He had a computer in the bedroom and went to get it. Chris followed him and they arranged themselves on Mike’s bed so they both could watch. 

“What are we looking for?” Mike asked when the computer was done booting.

“Noel local news,” Chris suggested.

After a bit of clicking various links, they found what they were looking for. There was a headline telling about unknown shots that had been fired in Chris’ area, but no one was reported wounded. That was all.

Mike took a measured breath. “So... you fired the gun. You don't know if you hit anyone. Especially if you hit Paige. And you don't know what you did with the gun after you fired it,” he summed up what they knew so far.

Chris nodded little by little. 

“You said she wanted to come over, right?”

“Yes. She insisted to come over and discuss the money. I never admitted to anything. She just said I had told her about the money when I had that black out at work.”

“Does she have like any proof?”

“No. She tried to bluff, but I didn’t respond to it.”

“I’m impressed. Really. It’s brilliant,” Mike said and smiled at him and earned a smile back.

“I remember I put bullets in the gun when I got home.”

“This is the interesting part, Chris... How did you get bullets? Because I didn’t have any.”

“I bought some...” Chris elaborated.

“You _bought_ some?” Mike repeated incredulous. That was simply the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Why, Chris?”

“For protection!” Chris said and turned his hands up as if that explained it better.

“From what?”

“Those bad guys you were running from!”

Mike just stared at him. Wiping a hand over his face, he then took Chris’ hands and understood a few things better. “Thank you, Chris. But it was a thoughtless thing to do.”

“I realise that now.”

“All right... someone must have knocked on the door or...?”

Chris looked at the computer for a few moments. “Yeah. I was just done putting the bullets in the gun, when there was a knock on the kitchen door. I don't know. I got scared, so I just opened it and fired into the dark.”

Looking at Chris’ hands, Mike asked again quietly, “Where is the gun?”

“I don't know.”

Slowly Mike moved until he sat behind Chris. When he put his hands on his shoulders, Chris turned his neck to look back.

“Where is it?”

It was going to be a long afternoon.

 

End of tale 02. July 2018


End file.
